


Equivalent Exchange

by SophieHatter



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-09-23 06:17:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17074973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophieHatter/pseuds/SophieHatter
Summary: Major Samantha Carter finds herself in an alternate universe with no clear way back. When she meets alternate SG-1 and alternate Jonathon J. O’Neill, Sam is faced with a choice between two Earths with very different futures. Which Earth will she choose to fight for?Serialised Adventure - updated Sundays





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New year, new AU. This actually a planned and storyboarded AU instead of my usual whatever-the-hell-I-feel-like storytelling. I’ve been wanting to write an adventure for a while, so I hope you will come on this adventure with me!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Many many thanks to the wonderful Beta skills of Sarah_M. You’re already better than you think!

_Think, think_ , Sam chanted to herself as she circled around the far side of the ruins and pulled herself in behind a half collapsed wall. Options: kill it or retreat. Killing the Kull Warrior would take more firepower than she had available. Escape was the best option. And that she wouldn’t do without the rest of her team.

One click came across the radio. Sam thumbed the volume control down to barely audible, afraid the noise could give away her position. Breath steadying, Sam listened for any sign of the Super Soldier.

When it seemed safe, Sam double clicked twice. _Received. Maintain radio silence._

Going over her mental map of the ruins, Sam double checked her position relative to where she had last seen the members of SG-1. Daniel and the Colonel had returned to the catacombs after lunch. Teal’c had been on the south side of the entrance, Sam on the north, two hundred metres between them.

The Kull Warrior had seemingly come out of nowhere, approaching from the north-west, even though the Gate lay to the east. The Super Soldiers were learning, getting better at strategy and becoming that much harder to kill. A problem, Sam reminded herself, for once they were back on Earth.

Teal’c. Where was Teal’c? As she’d moved into cover, Sam had heard him firing. The Kull Warrior has still been pursuing her, forcing her to take shelter in the next cluster of ruins near their camp, but now she heard nothing. Sam should still be able to hear the P-90s at this distance, or even the explosions from the Kull Warrior’s weapon.

_Please, let Teal’c be alright._

She needed to get back to the team, formulate a strategy and get them all out of there. Someone was still conscious and able to work a radio. The biggest obstacle was the clear area between the campsite ruins and the entrance to the catacombs. Rocky and uneven, it was dangerous ground, pocked with ankle breaking depressions and presenting minimal cover. There were just a few sparse blocks of stone and depressions where the ground beneath had shifted or pockets of organic matter had rotted away.

Strategising a low and careful crawl across the semi open ground, Sam heard the steady, heavy tread of the Kull Warrior to her rear. It had diverted to pass through their campsite, probably checking for any members of SG-1. Her current position was too exposed, the clear ground ahead of her, the Kull Warrior behind. Sam had to make it back to the catacombs, back to her team and get them all to the Stargate.

Which meant a dangerous sprint across the uneven ground.

Deciding against wasting a grenade on a desperate throw, Sam sprang to her feet, bursting into a sprint and zig zagging an erratic path. There was no real time to look behind her, the ankle twisting ground required nearly all of her attention.

Sam made fifty metres before the first shot from the Kull Warrior. The aim was off, hitting the ground to her left, after she changed direction. Veering immediately, she put herself on a direct line to a large block of stone. Scaling it would slow her down. Sam chose to dodge again, the Kull Warrior’s weapon lighting up the ground ahead of her. With a feint to one side, Sam urged herself to go faster and fought against looking back.

Then she was falling, the sky going sideways. Her first thought was that she’d tripped, but there was no pain in her feet or ankles. Darkness swallowed her, a single shaft of light illuminating the stone floor below. Sam had a split second to curl and roll as the stone rushed up to meet her.

Everything was pain as her senses struggled to identify up and down, floor and ceiling. Feet. Feet were all that mattered, Sam forced herself upright. Better to be shot while running than lying down.

Except for the beam of light falling from the hole too far above, all around her was darkness and shadows. There was no exit back the way Sam had come, not with a Kull Warrior waiting to play whack-a-mole with her head.

The floor was stone. Logically, that put Sam somewhere in the catacombs. Difficult, but not an unsolvable problem. The Colonel and Daniel had been working in the underground structure and she knew there was a viable exit.

Direction. She needed a direction to move in.

Groping in her pocket, Sam pulled out her digital Way-finder. The Gate showed as a blue circle to her east. Sam put her back to the Gate and scanned the west wall. Hesitating to turn on a flashlight, she let her eyes adjust to the darkness.

Ahead, a difference in the shadows revealed a doorway. With little other choice, Sam moved cautiously through it. Thumbing on her flashlight, she set it to a narrow beam and scanned the room. No, the corridor. She needed to go towards the team. Turning left, Sam made her way quietly down the corridor, looking for any turns to the right.

Two more corners and the Way-finder showed she was thirty meters further from the gate. Taking a moment to listen, Sam assessed her injuries from the fall. Her left shoulder and knee throbbed, having taken most of her weight as she landed. They would soon start to stiffen up, but didn’t feel dislocated or sprained. The rest of the injuries were a variety of grazes and bruises, but nothing attention grabbing. It was possible she was bleeding, but until she was assured of being safe, Sam wasn’t going to risk more light or putting down her weapon.

Breath steadying, Sam was reaching for the button on her radio when the thumping tread of the Kull Warrior echoed off the surrounding stone. Weighing up her options, Sam continued to move south. More corridor lay ahead, a straight and dangerous path against an accurate marksman like the Kull Warrior. There was an echoing scrape of stone, a scattering of kicked pebbles. Sam sped up.

Jogging, Sam followed the corridor to its end, turned a corner and entered a large, echoing room with a west exit. Sam sprinted across it, narrowly making the far exit as the stone to her left exploded. Stinging shrapnel tore into her face and arm as she dodged to the right. A small antechamber gave her only two options. One would mean crossing the open doorway, so Sam chanced the other exit, picking up speed as she passed through.

She saw the wide pool set in the floor but had too much momentum to veer around it. Her mind estimated the pool as three and a half, maybe four metres wide, a jump Sam could have made if she hadn’t been wearing 20 pounds of field gear.

In the air she realised that her jump would come up short. It was a split second decision to land in the pool and hope that it was shallow and not slimy.

Of course it wasn’t shallow. Taking a deep breath, Sam prepared for her head to pass under the surface, for the cold touch of water to soak through her clothes. But there was no sensation of immersion, only the feeling of passing through plastic wrap without tearing it. And then she was falling, still falling, into complete darkness. With no ground to spot, Sam had no reference for landing and the last thought she had before the end was that she should relax.

 

* * *

 

She came to consciousness with a jerk of her head that nearly made her vomit. Laying still, Sam breathed in and out slowly, waiting for the dancing lights in front of her eyes to fade. As the pain and lights receded, she began to take stock of her surroundings. It was quiet and, for now, she was alone – no doubt the Kull Warrior would have killed her if it found her unconscious. So, alone. And in a lot more pain than she remembered from before her plunge into the pool.

Carefully testing each limb before moving it, Sam took stock of her injuries. Her head hurt like the blazes, so probably a concussion from the fall. The stiffness in her left side was from the fall into the catacombs, but there was new pain over her ribcage and – Holy Hannah a whole lot of pain – in her right when she tried to move her shoulder. Trying to ignore it for now, Sam tested ankles then knees. The left leg was mostly okay but her right knee felt tight and seared when she bent it. Twisted or badly bruised by her fall, it would function but she wouldn’t be running out of here.

Sam rolled and pushed herself into a sitting position. Pain raced down her arm and flared through her right shoulder as she came upright. When she supported the elbow in her palm the pain eased and she tentatively diagnosed a dislocated shoulder. If Sam could support her arm, she should be able to walk.

The Kull Warrior had taken them by surprise and Sam only had access to whatever had been on her at the time. At least she’d been wearing her tac vest, so she had some basics to hand. No first aid kit, though, so no painkillers, no bandages and no sling. Rope though, she had, as well as a knife and her pocket flashlight. Five or more metres away, her P90’s light was shining into the wall, little help until she could get to it. Sam began the slow task of fashioning a cuff sling with only one hand.

Pausing a few times to sip water, Sam finally finished with the roughly fashioned sling, padded by the cuff of her jacket to prevent restricting her blood flow. It only had to last until she got back to the SGC.

Bracing, Sam got to her feet, shuffled to where her P90 lay and then scanned the room. Her memory was shaky, struggling to identify the exit. Pulling out the Way-finder, Sam’s heart fell to find it had somehow been damaged and could no longer detect the Stargate.

Pushing herself to move, Sam made her way to one of the doorways and leant against the frame. Using all her senses before moving again, she tried to pick rooms and hallways that smelled fresh or had moving air. She had no other way of finding an exit to the surface.

Fifteen minutes passed, then twenty, until she turned a corner and saw a change in the darkness. Cautiously, Sam began moving towards the end of the corridor, the darkness fading the further she went. Turning the corner, she was relieved to see a partially lit, vaulted cavern. Daylight illuminated the broad stairs.

Climbing the steps was a few minutes of painful work, but Sam was soon standing in the mid afternoon sun. As best her senses could gauge, she was alone in the immediate area. There were no sign of her team, or the Kull Warrior. Sam didn’t recognise the ruins that she had emerged into, but that probably meant that she had found a different entrance to the one Daniel was using.

The Gate was east, as was their camp, if they had overpowered the Kull Warrior then her team would be there. With painstaking movements, Sam turned, negotiating the rough terrain with care.

Time become a hazy thing as Sam focused on covering ground. Move, rest, adjust. Move, rest, adjust and sip. Clearing the ruins above the catacombs, Sam crossed the open, intervening ground, this time also looking for holes that would land her back in stony corridors below. The initial ruins where they had pitched their tents passed by to her south. Sam debated turning towards their camp or continuing towards the Stargate, unsure how much farther she was capable of travelling.

Turning towards camp and then, if her team wasn’t there, backtracking to the Gate seemed to be asking too much of her injuries. Decision made, Sam continued towards the Gate. Relief flooded her as the familiar ring came into view. With renewed energy, Sam stumbled to the DHD and dialled home.

With a slap on the glowing centre of the DHD, Sam watched dumbfounded as the symbols faded and the Gate failed to dial. Sparing a moment to cast around her her for any threats and finding none, Sam put in the address again. The same hollow feeling settled in her stomach as she pressed on the centre button and the symbols faded.

The edges of her vision began to tint grey and then black. Autonomic emergency procedure kicked in and Sam dialled the current Alpha Site before she could pass out. Vision swimming, she steadied herself as the Gate connected. Finger pressed on her radio’s talk button, Sam stumbled up the steps to the Stargate.

“Alpha-One, this is Major Samantha Carter. Single traveller inbound, medical assistance ... required ...”

As Sam reached the event horizon, the blackness closed in around her and she tumbled forward into the rippling, blue pool.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you know where you are?” Janet let go of Sam’s hand and began checking other vitals.
> 
> “The SGC?” Sam suggested, but there was something not quite right about that answer. She’d realised it as soon as the words left her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for your comments, kudos, words of support and reblogs on Tumblr! 
> 
> And many thanks to the oh-so-wonderful Sarah_M who is the bestest beta buddy anyone could want. <3

The familiar sounds of the infirmary were a comfort. The rattle of instruments in trays, the soft beep of monitors and hushed conversations conducted at the foot of each bed, hands touching and prodding at her - not always gentle but never wanting to hurt her.

It’s better than waking up in pain under an unfamiliar sky or worse, in a prison cell. The smell of antiseptic, freshly laundered linens, even the scent of reconstituted mashed potatoes told Sam she was safe.

Too heavy to open, she left her eyelids as they were and drifted back into the soft fuzz of sedated sleep.

 

* * *

 

“Samantha? Major Carter?”

Janet. Oh, thank god, Janet. Sam smiled softly and squeezed the hand that was in hers as she pried her eyes open.

Above her a worried Janet held a penlight and checked her eyes. Sam winced away from the bright light.

“Sorry. You had a really good concussion, but I’m glad to see that you’re awake now. Can you tell me your name?” Janet’s brow was furrowed and Sam gazed at the wrinkles, counting them, wondering what had the auburn haired doctor so concerned.

Pulling her dry lips apart, Sam attempted to wet them with her tongue. “Sam.” She husked, her answer barely a whisper.

“Here,” Janet offered her a sip of water, holding the straw steady while Sam sucked. “Better?”

Sam nodded and tried again, “Major Samantha Carter.”

“Good.” Janet offered her another sip of water, which Sam gratefully washed around her mouth, the dry tissues smoothing out with hydration.

“Do you know where you are?” Janet let go of Sam’s hand and began checking other vitals.

“The SGC?” Sam suggested, but there was something not quite right about that answer. She’d realised it as soon as the words left her mouth.

Janet paused, looking down at her, “Want to try that again?”

Taking her time, Sam looked around her. The people and most of the sounds and smells were familiar, but something about it was slightly off. The sounds were too soft. And the light, it was more than the incandescent underground white that was everywhere in the mountain. Carefully moving her head, Sam took in the buff ceiling and then, she remembered.

“The Alpha Site,” Sam ventured. Then the why and who and how came rushing back.“The Colonel? Daniel? Teal’c?” As Sam struggled to sit up Janet met her left shoulder with a firm hand, keeping her body pressed against the sheet covered, plastic wrapped mattress.

“Calm down, Sam. Calm down. I need you to relax and stay here a little while longer.” When Sam’s eyes continued to scan frantically around her and she struggled against Janet’s restraint, Janet tried once more. “You were badly hurt and you need to rest your injuries a little longer. You’re safe. Relax.”

But her team. Her _team_ was still there, weren’t they? Still on that planet, still being hunted by the Super Soldier. Sam had to be sure that they had help, that other teams had gone in after them.

When the Kull had chased her Jack had made sure ... Jack had never given up ... had chased it, chased her ... all over that damn planet ... made sure that she ... made sure ... she’d made it ... home ...

There was a presence by her head that Sam didn’t remember being there. She turned her eyes upwards and saw a nurse pushing something into her IV line. Thoughts became harder to hold on to. Janet’s soothing words washed over her and her mind retreated into soft, pillowy oblivion.

 

* * *

 

The next time that she woke, the infirmary was darker, quieter. Discussions were conducted in indecipherable undertones, the beep and soft hiss of monitors and pumps seemed loud in the muted light. All the signs of the night shift in action.

There was a rustle of paper next to her, inevitably drawing Sam’s eye. Relief flooded through her at the sight of Daniel sitting by her bed, glasses half way down his nose, turning the pages of one of his books, making notes in the journal balanced on his knee.

How long had she been kept sedated? Daniel’s hair had grown, falling into his eyes and he needed it cut. It troubled her a little that he, like all of SG-1, overlooked personal care when one of their members was in the infirmary. Still, she was glad there was someone here when she woke.

“Daniel.” Even to her, the name was barely a whisper. “Daniel,” Sam tried again and this time the archaeologist looked up.

“Major Carter!” He smiled that bright, innocent grin that had won the trust of countless civilisations across the galaxy. “How are you feeling?”

Sam attempted to wet her lips and Daniel jumped in response to the cue, bringing the cup and straw to her mouth. Swallowing gratefully, Sam put her tongue to her lips again and moistened them. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Daniel smiled. “Better?”

“Much,” Sam agreed, reaching for the straw again. Daniel held the cup for her and once she was done, returned it to the stand beside the bed. He settled to patiently watch her, closing his books on each other, minding the places they had been opened to.

“I’m stiff and sore,” Sam answered his earlier question. Her reactions felt dulled, her mind frustratingly slow. Had she seen Janet, earlier? Concussion. Sedation. Pain killers. The event horizon shimmering. “I blacked out. Janet was trying to tell me what happened.“

“Well, medically,” Daniel supplied, “You’ve had a bad concussion, a dislocated shoulder, broken and bruised ribs and a sprained knee. Do you remember how you were injured?”

It was coming back to her, the swooping sensation of falling into darkness ending with an impact on stone. “I fell, twice. Back on PM5-173, in those damn catacombs you were surveying. Oh god, the Kull Warrior!” Sam tried to jerk upright but Daniel had clearly been anticipating a strong reaction and placed his hand on her arm.

“Steady. Janet says you need to stay in bed a while longer.” His touch was firm, reassuring and familiar.

Willing herself to relax, Sam curled her fingers into the edge of the blanket at her waist. “The Colonel? Teal’c?” Eyes wide, pleading for them to be alright, Sam searched his face for the answer.

“As far as I know, just fine. I’m going to stay with you, so you don’t need to worry.” Daniel gave her that diplomatic smile, again. “You must be hungry. Janet said that you can have some light stuff to eat. There’s juice or jello or soup?”

The suggestion of soup made her queasy. Sam realised that she must have been sedated for at least a day, given the combination of churn and hunger in her stomach. “Juice and jello. Please.”

Daniel nodded and left her side for a few minutes. She could hear his steady tread as he walked to the end of the infirmary tent. Within a few moments, he’d returned with pre-packed juice and jello.

“No blue?” Sam joked.

Daniel shook his head. “Orange is all we’ve got now. Still want it?”

“Sure.” She closed her eyes as Daniel peeled back the foil lid, holding a straw in place for her to sip. She’d eat a little then sleep some more. The haze of concussion and sedation made little things seem out of place and big things too large to comprehend.

Sam wished for a clear head and the return of her rational faculties. Her hunger sated for the moment, she relaxed into sleep and Daniel returned to his book.

 

* * *

 

The next time she woke Sam heard Daniel’s voice, further away, but raised in the way he tended to reserve for making one of his impassioned arguments.

“... knows us. Or me, at least. And her dog tags ...” Daniel was saying.

“All easily manufactured based on intel.”

That voice. She’d know it anywhere, especially with that tone of barely concealed impatience.

“Janet says she’s been a host at some point, there’s Naquadah in ...”

With lightning clarity, Sam suddenly knew exactly what was wrong. “Janet!” She struggled to sit up, jarring her shoulder, pain shooting down her arm, making her collapse back on the bed. As she struggled upwards again, Daniel was there, soothing, helping to hold her.

“Janet!” Daniel called across the infirmary.

At the foot of her bed Janet appeared and Sam tried to pull herself upright again, staring at the auburn haired doctor. Daniel’s arms held her still. Whether he was restraining or protecting her, she couldn’t tell.

Then Sam froze. Beyond Janet, beyond the end of her bed, stood the Colonel, except that his BDUs sported a star on each lapel. And his face - a red scar broke the line of his jaw - and his eyes. There was no _Jack_ there. No twinkle of repressed humour hiding below the surface. No smile edging the corner of his mouth for her. No glance at her that lingered just a little too long.

This wasn’t her Jack. Wasn’t her reality.

That brief moment of comprehension was washed away in sudden alarm.

“How long? How long was I unconscious for?” She pushed against Daniel again. “Please, I can sit up ...”

Janet made her way to Sam’s other side and helped Daniel adjust the bed.

“How long, Janet?” Sam asked, growing more desperate at their silence.

The doctor turned towards Colonel - no, General - O’Neill who gave permission with a shrug of his shoulder.

“Two and a half days, nearly three,” Janet finally answered.

Sam absorbed the new information, calculating possibilities in her head. At least three or four hours on PM5-173, bringing her time in this alternate reality up to three days. “Have I been ... glitching, while I was unconscious?”

Janet’s brow furrowed and Daniel repeated the word, “Glitching?”

“Entropic cascade failure. It’s a side effect of jumping realities.” The confused looks the gathering crowd of personnel were giving her continued unabated. “It would happen only to me, because there can’t be two identical particles, two Samantha Carters, in this universe. So the universe corrects by trying to displace the duplicate particles.”

“In this universe?” General O’Neill looked to Janet and then Daniel. When neither of them gave him an answer, he sighed wearily. “We need McKay,” he declared, turning to one of the Airmen standing guard and sending them off on the errand.

_McKay_. Well, at least she’d be speaking to someone who knew her language.

“Dr Sam Carter?” Daniel mused from beside her. Then he stepped back and looked Sam over thoroughly. “Well, I guess so.”

“Daniel,” General O’Neill interrupted, “Would you step outside for a moment?”

“Uh, sure, Jack,” Daniel walked backwards away from Sam’s bedside before turning and following the General outside.

_General O’Neill_ was definitely not her Jack. Someone had made him a General? _Geez_ , Sam thought reflexively, _Jack would love that_. Beside her, Janet started moving around, drawing her attention back to her present situation.

“We’ll use this little break to get some real work done,” Janet murmured quietly to Sam. Methodically, Dr Fraiser examined her patient, checking vitals and moving on to stitches and wounds.

Sam found herself watching Janet, curious to note any differences or, she admitted to herself a moment later, to find out if this Janet was as close to this universe’s Sam as Sam had been to her Janet. Had this Janet adopted Cassie? Tried to decipher the mystery that was Urgo? Fought against Michello’s Goa’uld killing brain parasites?

After a few minutes, Janet looked up and gave her an embarrassed smile, “What is it?” The doctor asked. “Am I wearing my breakfast on my face?”

Shaking her head, Sam made herself look away. “No. I ... my Janet was killed a few months ago. I was starting not to think about her all the time, you know?” Running her fingers over the pattern in the blanket that covered her legs, Sam found herself disconcerted by the sudden tightness in her chest.

Janet stood quietly by, watching. With a step closer, she asked, “What do you mean by ‘your Janet’? You don’t mean me, do you?”

_Stupid time to get emotional. Get a grip, Carter._ Fingers crumpling up the blanket, Sam raised her head to meet Janet’s eyes. “The Janet from my reality.” When her explanation was met with a blank look, Sam felt a rush of shock. Had this universe really never had an alternate visitor before? Where was Rodney that he was taking so long to respond to the General’s summons?

“Sorry. What I’m saying must seem very strange to you. When Dr McKay gets here, I’ll explain. My head doesn’t feel up to doing it more than once.” Sam was about to apologise further when Daniel and General O’Neill returned, a woman in BDUs with curly hair pulled back into a bun between them.

“Dr McKay is here,” the woman declared. “How can I help?”

To her great embarrassment, Sam found herself gaping while her mind raced. Rodney had a sister, a promising mathematician whom Sam had never met. Mind groping for her name, Sam’s mouth stammered on.

“You’re Rodney McKay’s _sister_?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed and exchanged a look with Daniel, the kind of look that was a whole conversation. Daniel ended it with a raised eyebrow and a slight nod of his head toward Sam that said, _Now do you see what I mean?_

Moving towards Sam, Dr McKay came alongside the bed while everyone, even Janet, paused to listen. “Dr Jeanie McKay,” she said, offering her hand to Sam. “We’ve never met, but I understand that you are Dr Samantha Carter?”

Taking her hand, Sam shook it and smiled, trying to recover from her surprise. “No, we haven’t met. In this reality or in mine. Your brother, however, I know quite well.”

“You do?” Jeanie asked, obviously curious. “May I?” She gestured at the bed, seeking permission to sit. With Sam’s assurance, she perched on the edge of the mattress. “How did you meet my brother?”

“Well, in my reality, we both work for the Air Force in capacities related to the Stargate program. Rodney as a civilian contractor with multiple doctorates and I hold the Air Force rank of Major as well as doctorates in Mathematics and Astrophysics.” Sam watched the SGC personnel around her as she spoke, looking for signs of recognition.

Daniel and Jack exchanged amused smiles at this news, while Jeanie snorted. “I think you have the wrong Rodney McKay. He dropped out in his sophomore year at MIT and started a computing technology company. Last I checked, he was worth around $10 billion dollars. Well, not that I could check nowadays, anyway,” she added.

That last comment puzzled Sam, but she put it aside for later. “Your Rodney, does he have zero people skills, an insatiable need to be right and an allergy to citrus?” Jeanie opened and shut her mouth without saying anything and then gave Sam a careful and calculating look. “Oh, yes. I’ve met him,” Sam confirmed, “Would you like me to start from the beginning?”

For the next fifteen minutes, Sam explained the multiple universe theory to a comprehending Dr McKay, a mildly puzzled Dr Jackson and an impatient General O’Neill. Janet brought Sam a light meal and encouraged her to pause to eat and drink as the audience moved on to the Q&A.

Sam fielded question after question. How had she come to be here? Why did she know the location of the Alpha site? In what capacity had she worked at the SGC? How many other alternates had she met? How many other realities had she visited? Sam anticipated every question, ready with an answer. This was not her first time explaining things to a group of alters.

As the questions began to dwindle, Sam sagged back against the pillows and Janet looked over the assembled crowd. “General, my patient needs to rest. Do you have any further need of her right now?”

General O’Neill looked to Jeanie, who replied. “We have enough to be getting on with, Jack.” The female Dr McKay was bursting with excitement. Sam understood the urge to dash back to her lab and begin processing the information that had been shared. But Sam wasn’t quite done.

“Wait,” Sam said urgently, “I’m on borrowed time. I’ve already stayed in this reality too long, we’ve seen the effects of entropic cascade failure start after no more than 48 hours.”

Turning back to Sam, Jeanie asked, “What do you need to do then?”

“Return through the mirror, or whatever it was on PM5-173. Otherwise, I’ll die, I’ll cease to exist.”

“Because you can’t exist alongside another Samantha Carter?” Jeanie asked. Sam nodded and Jeanie turned to look at the General.

Shuffling his feet, hands in his pockets, General O’Neill spent a brief moment contemplating his options, a gesture Sam could easily read. “You won’t need to return to the planet, Major Carter,” the General told her.

“I have no choice,” Sam told him, “Unless you have the Quantum Mirror close by?”

“No,” The General drawled, “Because there’s no chance of entropic cascade failure in this reality. Dr Samantha Carter died in 1995.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaning forward, the General tapped a finger on the open notebook. “How much more intel do you have to share?”
> 
> Sam looked at the notebook. “I’m working from my own memory, but I’m doing my best, sir. If I could talk to Dr McKay or Daniel about your current circumstances, who is the largest threat, scientific projects in progress or off-world technology then I could target the information I have to share to areas of the most benefit to your Earth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have commented, left kudos or shared on Tumblr. You guys are awesome!
> 
> And all the thanks to Sarah_M, writing buddy and bestest beta!

“I knew her.”

Sam, jolted from her thoughts, turned in surprise towards Daniel.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I just came to see how you were doing.” Hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders hunched awkwardly, Daniel studied his feet. “And to say that I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about Dr Carter.”

“Why didn’t you?” Sam asked. Something about the ache in her head or the medicine she was taking to counteract it made her blurt out the question.

Daniel pulled a chair over and sat down, close enough so that his knees were touching the frame of the hospital bed. “Jack ordered me not to. He wanted to know more about you and why you were here first.”

“Does this mean he believes me now?” she asked gingerly. Something about the way Daniel was sitting so close and leaning in made Sam wonder if he had General O’Neill’s permission to disclose anything to her.

Pushing his glasses up his nose, Daniel took a breath. “The thing you have to know about Jack is that he’s protective. It’s not that he doesn’t necessarily believe you, it’s that he doesn’t know you.”

That General O’Neill didn’t know and care about a Samantha Carter, even if it wasn’t her, made Sam’s chest tighten. She couldn’t identify if the sense of loss she felt was for General O’Neill or for herself. Or for the idea that in every reality where there was a Jack, he was somehow matched with a Sam - except for this one.

“Did he know her?” Sam mused. It wasn’t until Daniel spoke that she realised she had asked the question aloud.

“Did who know her?” Daniel frowned, puzzled.

Wishing the ache in her head would go away so that she could think clearly again, Sam ran a hand through her hair, closing her eyes for a moment. “Did General O’Neill know Dr Carter?”

“Oh. No, he never met her. Why?”

Sam was quiet for a long time, considering how much to share with Daniel. The people here had never met any alters of herself or any other SGC personnel. To come out with her universal constant theory would make her sound addled or soft. Certainly not like the scientist or officer that she needed them to trust.

“In my reality, Jack O’Neill is my Commanding Officer. We’ve been on the same team for seven years, along with you and Teal’c. In most realities where there is an O’Neill and a Carter, they have a strong working relationship.” Sam gestured towards the exit to the infirmary where she had last seen this reality’s O’Neill, “I know what I’m saying is hard to believe, but when Jack O’Neill trusts the other me already, things tend to go a lot smoother.”

Daniel nodded thoughtfully, glancing down at his hands before speaking. “I didn’t know Dr Carter for very long. When Catherine brought me in to help decipher the cover stone, Dr Carter was leading the technical team who were trying to make the Gate work.”

Sam nodded, “That was my role in the project too.”

“I didn’t even meet her until I’d worked out the Gate addresses, they’d kept me isolated until then. When Dr Carter led a team through a test dial to Abydos, there was a problem with the power flow and the whole system shorted. She pushed two techs clear of the electrical explosion but was killed.” Daniel gestured apologetically, “I had only known her a few days, but Dr Carter was a hero to the early people in the program. There was a plaque in the Gateroom to her memory.”

“So General O’Neill knows _of_ her, but doesn’t _know_ her.”

“Yeah,” Daniel confirmed. “To be honest, impersonating her would be a good cover story. I only met her for a few days eight years ago. No one else here did. And we have no way of confirming that what you tell us is true.”

Sam nodded slowly, feeling weary. She had never been the one that had to convince a different reality of her story. Not having that kernel of personal trust for a Samantha Carter was going to make her job very difficult. “Do you believe me Daniel?”

The archaeologist shifted, sitting back in his chair to considered her. Sam remained still under his gaze, keeping her eyes up and her body relaxed. “Jeanie does,” he finally said, “And I think I’m also pretty close to believing you.”

“Thank you,” Sam said sincerely. “Can I ask why?”

“Well, Jeanie says your explanation about alternate universes fits the scientific theories and I’ve learnt to trust her judgement on matters scientific,” Daniel shared with a rueful grin.

Sam returned his smile, “Wise of you.” Daniel gave a short bark of laughter and relaxed his posture. “So that’s what Jeanie thinks. What about you?”

Daniel drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair before answering. “Your injuries - you had a serious concussion and you needed to be sedated. When you first saw me, I knew that you recognised me, even with your brain bruised and drugged. I think it unlikely that your cover story would be so deeply ingrained as to work in those circumstances.”

There were a few ways Sam could think of it being possible, but she kept them to herself. Reaching for Daniel’s hand, she squeezed it. “Thank you. In my reality ...” Sam stopped herself.

With a raised eyebrow, Daniel seemed to read her mind. “We’re friends?”

When Sam nodded, appearing puzzled that he knew what she was thinking, Daniel offered an explanation. “It’s SG-1. We’re pretty close. I figure that your SG-1 would be too.”

“Yeah.” Sam’s face brightened at the thought of her team, “We are.”

 

* * *

 

Sam was finishing her first proper breakfast since arriving at the Alpha site when Janet and Daniel visited her bedside. Reconstituted eggs, oatmeal and a juice cup could barely be considered proper food, but it was a step up from MREs.

“Time to discharge you,” Janet announced, picking up Sam’s chart.

“Really?” Sam looked from Janet to Daniel, who was keeping his expression blank. “Thank you. What does this mean?”

Tapping her pen on Sam’s chart, Janet deferred to Daniel. Apparently he had been assigned as the bearer of bad news.

“We’d like you to stay here for a while, to help us better understand how you got here.”

That didn’t sound at all promising to Sam’s ears. “Like me to stay or require me to stay, Daniel?”

“I would like you to stay, as would Jeanie. We both have things we’d like to discuss with you.” Daniel wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“But someone requires me to stay, is that it?” Sam waited for Janet or Daniel to tell her that she was wrong. “Would that someone be General O’Neill?” _Damn it Jack O’Neill. Trust me, will you!_

Daniel sighed heavily. “We’ve arranged quarters for you. And, within reason, we can supply you with the basics that you might need to work.”

“Work?” Sam queried, agitated. “What work would I need to do here? What I need to do is get back to the mirror pool and return to my team. Will Stargate Command help me with that?”

Janet appeared uncomfortable and Daniel wouldn’t meet her eyes. Finally, the petite doctor spoke, “Give the General some time, Sam. He’ll come around.”

 

* * *

 

Two SFs accompanied them as Daniel showed her to her quarters — a single room with a desk. It was in one of the few constructed buildings Sam saw on her walk from the infirmary. Most of the other facilities were housed in military tents: hard floors, durable canvas and power supplied from some undetectable source.

Daniel pointed out the basics that they had supplied her with - three changes of BDUs, personal toiletries, paper and pens. The SFs would escort her if she needed to shower or use the bathroom. Meals would be brought to her in her room.

It was all very telling of the position she was in.

“Do I at least get to exercise?” Sam asked. When Daniel appeared surprised, she let her impatience show, “I’m part of a frontline SGC team. When not on a mission, I run five clicks a day and work out in the gym or spar for an hour, at least.”

“Right,” Daniel agreed, taking in the small room that they both knew was essentially Sam’s prison cell. There was no way it could offer her the level of physical activity she was accustomed to. “I’ll see what can be done about that.”

Sam sighed. Daniel was clearly uncomfortable with the way she was being treated. The fact that he had been assigned to break the news to her was not his fault. “Am I allowed to talk to anyone? Offer intel? Discuss science? Ask about the weather?”

“There’ll be a debriefing later today, when Jack’s available.”

“And then?” Sam prodded.

“I honestly don’t know,” Daniel told her with a gesture of helplessness. “I can probably get you things - books, maybe some equipment. Not until after the debriefing though.”

“Alright, well,” Sam gestured towards the desk. “I’ll start making notes on intel that we’ve been able to share with other realities. We often face similar kinds of problems. We’ve even developed a data pack to hand over.”

“Wow,” Daniel appeared intrigued. “You’ve met that many - what did you call them? Alters?”

“Alters,” Sam confirmed. “And, yes. The entropic cascade failure usually doesn’t give us a lot of time to explain things, so we’ve developed a protocol for the sharing of basic, universal information.”

“Your idea?” Daniel asked.

“No,” Sam smiled, “It was yours.”

 

* * *

 

“Why is there Naquadah in your blood?”

No _hello_ , no _how are you_ , not even a fake apology for detaining her. The moment General O’Neill entered the small conference room he was pushing questions at Sam.

“I was a temporary host to a Tok’ra, Sir. She was on the run from a Goa’uld assassin who nearly killed us both. She died to save my life.” Sam stayed relaxed in her chair as he sat down opposite, despite her instinct to stand to attention.

“What’s a Tok’ra? Why was it running from the Goa’uld?”

“The Tok’ra are a Goa’uld resistance cell. They share the same physiology, but the Tok’ra have been trying to end the reign of the System Lords for over a thousand years. The Goa’uld hunt them mercilessly. Jolinar, the Tok’ra I carried, was forced to take me as a host when her previous host was killed in a Goa’uld raid.” Wary of what General O’Neill might think of the snakeheads, Sam tried to keep her answers as matter of fact as possible — she needed to gain his trust and fast. Not for the first time, Sam wished that she could remember the formula for how she’d earned it from Colonel O’Neill.

“It took you as a host against your will?” For an unguarded moment, General O’Neill confirmed her concerns as to how much the idea horrified him. Gut clenching, Sam pushed away her lingering guilt at how much Colonel O’Neill had endured because she insisted he trust the Tok’ra.

“Yes, Sir, she did. But that was before the Tok’ra became our allies. The time I spent as a host to Jolinar and the way she sacrificed herself to save me, ultimately led to an alliance with the Tok’ra — one that has been instrumental in our fight against the System Lords. They have shared intel and technology with us for the past six years.” Sam opened the notebook that contained all the information she’d been able to write down in the two hours she had spent waiting for this debriefing.

“I have listed here all the Tok’ra worlds that I can recall the addresses to. They move planets frequently to avoid the Goa’uld. The ones with stars beside them are the most recent ones. At least, where I come from they are.”

His eyes flicked to the group of fifteen gate addresses. They were listed beside a paragraph explaining the Tok’ra command structure, the past and current members of the Tok’ra High Council and their dispositions towards the alliance with Earth. That the list included her own father, Sam left for the General to figure out.

Following the General’s gaze, Sam pointed to two names she had written below the list of addresses. “These two, Cordesh and Tanith, are Goa’ulds who infiltrated the Tok’ra. If you meet with the High Council, the information may be useful to prove your honesty, Sir. Or to save your own lives.”

The General reached across the table and turned the notebook so it was facing him. He began to flip the pages, his face the usual mask that concealed the keen mind behind it. After examining the notes on potential allies, the Ancients and the System Lords, the General turned that blank, stern face to her. “Why are you giving us this intel?”

Was he angry with her, or just guarded? Studying him as she continued, Sam said, “We’ve met with more than five alternate realities. For various reasons to do with Stargate travel and the circumstances in which a Quantum Mirror exists and is found, those realities were experiencing similar problems to the ones we have faced. Exchange of intel between alternate realities has been mutually beneficial.” Sam paused, waiting for the General. When he nodded, she continued.

“As an example, in the first alternate reality that we encountered, Earth was under attack from the Goa’uld. They shared a Gate address with us and we were able to thwart a similar attack in our own reality.” When General O’Neill blinked at her example, Sam hesitated. The subtle motion told her there was something he was suppressing. “We then shared that information with the next reality we met and so on. Over time, Daniel developed a compilation of intel that had proven useful to us or the realities that we came into contact with.”

“Intel relating to?” the General asked. Finally, he seemed interested in the breadth of information that Sam could share.

“Allies, resources, enemy combatants, technology. Also Gate addresses and the information that we have on them. And intel related to certain groups on Earth or within the US involved in illegal or morally ambiguous activities that were a threat to the Stargate program or to Earth.”

Sam stopped again and looked patiently across the table at the General. As much as she reminded herself that he wasn’t her Jack O’Neill - and he wasn’t, there were numerous differences - there was enough of the Colonel there that a part of Sam was always anticipating a specific reaction. It kept throwing her off balance. That General O’Neill didn’t even know his Carter had her on edge, making her overthink her own responses.

His fingers drummed on the table top, drawing her attention. His hands, but not his hands. His gestures, but not. A brief flash of longing for the familiarity of him surged through Sam but she tamped it back down. The path back to him, to her own work in her reality, lay through the man sitting across from her. Losing focus and disappearing into her emotions would do her no good.

“Why?” The General asked tersely. When Sam looked puzzled, as she had already explained why, he rephrased. “What do you want from us? It seems that our realities are more different than the ones you say you’ve interacted with. What could we offer you in return?”

“I don‘t know yet, Sir. It could be there’s technology you have found or developed or even the circumstances that led to the differences could be useful intel to us. To be honest, I’m following the objective of the Stargate program: _exploration to procure knowledge and advanced technologies that could benefit the protection of Earth and its inhabitants._ ” Watching for the General’s reaction to her statement, she added, “At least, that’s the purpose behind my SGC.”

That blink, again, and a slow swallow. Something in what Sam had said bothered him, caused him pain, reminding her of Jack O’Neill when they had first met.

Leaning forward, the General tapped a finger on the open notebook. “How much more intel do you have to share?”

Sam looked at the notebook. “I’m working from my own memory, but I’m doing my best, sir. If I could talk to Dr McKay or Daniel about your current circumstances, who is the largest threat, scientific projects in progress or off-world technology then I could target the information I have to share to areas of the most benefit to your Earth.”

General O’Neill got to his feet and, without thinking, Sam did, too. “Continue working as you have been, Dr Carter. I will take your offer, and the usefulness of your intel, into consideration.” He turned, obviously dismissing her, and walked to the door.

“General O’Neill,” Sam said forcefully. When he turned to look at her the General’s posture and expression were so stiff that she wavered in her resolve, but only for a moment. “It is appropriate to refer to a person by their rank, not their salutation. Although you don’t know me, I have earned my rank. I would appreciate it if you referred to me as ‘Major’, not ‘Doctor’”.

The General’s hand tensed on the door handle, jaw tensed as he bit back what Sam was sure would have been a sharp retort. Finally, he nodded, “Major Carter.”

“Also, Sir, you should know that I do expect to return to my reality. I will help this SGC as much as I can, but I have important work waiting for me.” _And people_ , Sam thought to herself.

“ _Major_ Carter,” General O’Neill said, with emphasis on her rank, “You will return to your reality if, and when, I deem it to be possible and appropriate.” With that, he opened the door and strode out of the room, leaving Sam with a sinking feeling in her gut. As clear as day, she was being held captive, but for what reason or purpose she was unsure.

 

* * *

 

After the debriefing, Sam started a second notebook, a journal. As she noted down the things she had learned about this reality, Sam realised that most of what she thought she knew was based on assumptions and appearances. All of the people that she had interacted with had been very careful in what they shared with her.

She was reflecting on the insight and wondering what it might mean about this reality, about these people, when a knock on her door interrupted her thoughts.

“Yes?” Sam asked, moving towards the door. It opened and a dark haired man with a pleasant face waited there, a rolled up poster under his arm.

“Major Carter, I’m Major Cam Mitchell. General O’Neill asked me to come and see you.”

Sam squinted, trying to decide if she should recognise the Major, but no matching face from her own reality came to mind.

“Pleased to meet you Major Mitchell. Come in.” It wasn’t like she could offer to meet him somewhere more comfortable. “Sorry, I’ve only got the one chair.”

Closing the door behind him, Major Mitchell surveyed her room, his posture stiff. “I can stand,” he offered.

Pulling the chair to the end of the bed, Sam sat down on the mattress. “Please, sit. What can I do for General O’Neill?”

With an apologetic glance to Sam’s place on the bed, the Major sat down in the chair. “In this case, it’s what he can do for you. I’ve been ordered to conduct reconnaissance on PM5-173.”

“The planet where I fell through the mirror pool?” Some of her frustration eased. She’d had more impact on General O’Neill than she thought.

“The very one. I’ll be taking SG-1 for a standard recon. It would help you a lot if you’d share any intel you have.” His hand wrapped around the roll of paper, Mitchell tapped it nervously against his knee.

“I’ll do my best, Major. Would you like me to start with our mission briefing?” Sam crossed the room to her desk, picking up her notebook and pen.

Major Mitchell stood again. “We sent a UAV through yesterday. I have an aerial photo of the area where you were. At least, it matches your description.”

He offered Sam the scroll of paper and she paused, “Can you give me a hand with this desk?” Together they rearranged her room so that she could sit on the bed and he on the chair and share the desk.

For the better part of an hour, Sam briefed the other Major on her SG-1’s mission and the additional information they had gathered from their time spent exploring the ruins. Apologising for her incomplete memory of the catacombs - the concussion had left her fuzzy about some of the details - Sam did her best to sketch out the underground layout for him.

It was during the description of the catacombs that concern began to nag at her. When Sam had stepped in to the mirror pool in her reality, she had fallen through the air to land on a stone floor. Dealing with her concussion and dislocated shoulder meant that she had overlooked it, at the time, but now Sam worried. Where had the mirror pool been in this reality? In the ceiling? As she tried to recall the pitch black room, Sam couldn’t remember seeing a mirror pool at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janet said, “It still sounds weird when you call him Colonel.”
> 
> “Same when I hear General,” Sam remarked. “My Jack O’Neill would hate it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to all the new readers! I’m so glad you have decided to come along on this adventure with us. <3
> 
> And thank you to all the lovely people who have left kudos, comments and reblogged or liked Equivalent Exchange on Tumblr. You all warm my heart. 
> 
> Lastly, thanks to the amazing and wonderful Beta Sarah_M - May your words flow and your writer be unblocked. <3

Janet burst out laughing, making her smile, even as Sam felt the loss of her own Janet like a twist in the gut. Taking the second oatmeal raisin cookie from her dinner tray, she broke it in half and offered a portion to Janet.

“Nuh-uh,” Janet refused. “Those extra calories are for you, Doctor’s orders. You’d barely pass the weight limit for active duty.”

Sam eyed the cookie, breaking a piece off as she muttered, “If I ever get out of here.”

“It’ll happen, Sam. General O’Neill’s not unreasonable, just ...”

Swallowing the piece of cookie, Sam suggested, “Suspicious as hell?”

Janet’s face fell as she nodded. “If you knew, Sam, if you knew why, you’d forgive him.”

Thoughts and questions ran through Sam’s mind, but finally she nodded. “I probably would. Any chance you might fill me in on some of what’s going on here?”

Leaning back in her chair, Janet propped her feet up on the frame at the end of Sam’s bed. “We have our orders. I’m sorry ...”

Waving the apology away, Sam issued her own. “No, don’t. I shouldn’t have asked. I know I’m not going to hear one word until the General says so.” She quirked a smile, “Ironically, I know all of you too well.”

Janet laid her dinner tray on the desk, appearing to debate something in her head. “Tell me about her,” she asked.

“My Janet?” When the doctor nodded, Sam leant her head back against the wall and let out a long sigh. “You are very much alike. She was warm and generous, a fierce advocate when it came to her patients and no one would mess with her when it had anything to do with medical matters. Not even Colonel O’Neill or General Hammond.”

With a wavering nod, Janet said, “It still sounds weird when you call him Colonel.”

“Same when I hear General,” Sam remarked. “My Jack O’Neill would hate it.”

“General O’Neill does, too,” Janet revealed.

Sam softened a little towards the obstinate General, wondering if his reasons for being against the promotion were the same. “The Colonel used to call Janet a ‘Napoleonic Power Monger’.”

That made Janet laugh. “To her face?”

“He wouldn’t have dared. She always threatened him with bigger needles and he never wanted to test her resolve.” Sam’s mind spooled back to the beginning of the year, when they had all been alive and Daniel had his memories back and he’d been giving the doctor long thoughtful looks. For a while, Sam had thought that two of her closest friends might find happiness in each other, but then Janet had been denied that chance.

Eyes on Sam, Janet wondered, “Did she have a family?”

“A daughter,” Sam answered. “Cassie. She’s 17. Janet adopted her after we found her off-world, her entire civilisation killed off by a Goa’uld.” Fighting back tears, Sam turned her face away. “I wanted to adopt her, but my mission roster, and not having a partner, meant it was impractical. But Janet could. You know what the hours are like, they’re awful, but at the end of every day, she could go home to Cass.”

There was a scrape of boots on metal as Janet set her feet back on the floor and reached for Sam’s hand, wrapping their fingers together.

“I’m her guardian, now,” Sam went on, squeezing Janet’s fingers in gratitude. “She’ll be ... the rest of my team ... they’ll be looking after her.”

“Oh, Sam,” Janet murmured, pushing a box of tissues into Sam’s lap. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think, didn’t realise, that you would have a child to go back to. Especially when she’s already lost one mother.”

“Two,” Sam corrected as she wiped away tears. “Cassie was ten when a Goa’uld killed everyone on her world, including her parents. And then they killed Janet, when she was leading a med-evac for an injured SG team member. You all need to believe me when I say I have every reason to hate the Goa’uld. And that I need to go back. I will help you if I can, but my world, my people, they need my help to defeat the System Lords.”

Janet nodded solemnly, still holding Sam’s hand. “Hopefully SG-1 will come back with something useful.”

Letting go of Janet’s hand to blow her nose, Sam rolled her shoulders, and straightened her position on the bed. “I should probably get back to writing up that intel.”

“I’m getting you a laptop. You can’t be writing all day if it’s going to hurt your shoulder like that.” Janet was unhappy that Sam had spent the day writing, only stopping when the pain in her healing shoulder became too much.

“It’s been a couple of hours, it’s feeling better,” Sam said. When Janet stood and stared her down, the blonde rolled her eyes. “Alright. I’ll keep icing it and wait for the laptop.”

Shaking her head, Janet began cleaning up their dinner trays. “Read something, do a puzzle. Rest,” she suggested, gesturing to the pair of second hand paperbacks and the book of crosswords she’d brought Sam. “I’ll go and see General O’Neill now, hopefully something can be sorted by the morning.”

“If he’ll trust me,” Sam commented and then wished she hadn’t spoken aloud. “Sorry, Janet. You’ve been nothing but good to me. I really appreciate it.”

“Hey. You’ve been through worse, right? You’re going to make it through this, too. I’ll stop by in the morning on my way to the infirmary.” Janet gathered up the dinner trays and her doctor’s bag.

“You don’t have to,” Sam began to say.

“Ah! I want to check on your shoulder after you’ve been icing and resting it. Resting,” she emphasised. “I’ll know if you haven’t.”

“ _Napoleonic_ ...” Sam began to murmur and Janet gave a short laugh.

“Good night, Sam.”

“Night, Janet. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Janet said over her shoulder as she stepped out into the hall, one of the SFs on duty pulling the door closed.

Sam swung her legs over the side of the bed and picked up the two novels Janet had brought her from the site’s swap library. Her shoulder really was too sore for more writing. Putting the romance back, Sam turned to the first chapter of the sci-fi adventure and started to read.

 

* * *

 

_Footsteps followed her as she ran through the dark catacombs, her mind making snap decisions on which way to turn as she focused on keeping her footing in the small beam of her P90’s flashlight._

_Sam found herself in the large chamber, sprinting across the open ground, sliding through the far doorway and turning, desperate to outpace the steps behind her._

_Rounding the corner, the mirror pool shone silver, its surface eerily still as it reflected the light. This time, she would make it, this time she would run faster, jump harder._

_This time ... she missed, again._

_Falling into the pool, Sam felt the now familiar not-wet sensation of passing through the surface of the singularity. She looked back above her, and saw a hand reaching for hers. Saw the Colonel leaning over, his mouth wide, yelling her name._

_She tried to reach back, but she was sinking, he was too late. If she’d just known that it were his footsteps she could hear, she never would have run._

“Jack!” She yelled, coming awake upright, heartbeat thundering in her ears.

Darkness surrounded her, its feel unfamiliar. This was her ‘room’, her makeshift cell at the Alpha Site. She was alone and under guard on the orders of a man with a hauntingly familiar face. Not her Colonel, not her O’Neill. Not her Jack.

Sam told herself she would get home over and over, trying to banish the dream and the feeling of loss it had brought. What if she was right and there was no reciprocal mirror on PM5-173? What if she was stranded here? What if Colonel O’Neill was searching but never found her?

Sam hugged her legs, pressing her forehead to her knees. She needed him. Needed his grounding grasp on her shoulder. His patient belief that she would find a solution. What would he say to her?

_You’ll think of something, you always do. There’ll be a way out of this, Carter, you’ve just gotta find it._

 

* * *

 

When the Airman arrived the next morning with a scrubbed laptop for her to use, Sam was genuinely surprised. Janet had stopped by on the way to start her shift, but hadn’t been able to tell Sam if the General had taken the doctor’s advice. Now that she had a laptop, Sam could save her right hand for sketching diagrams and type up notes with her left.

The morning passed quickly as Sam added to the intel she’d already been able to show the General. Without knowing where this reality was in its fight with the Goa’uld, or any of the other serious threats like the Replicators or the Trust, what she recorded was broad in scope. It frustrated her to waste time on details that might not be relevant, but satisfying whatever it was that General O’Neill was looking for was her best way home.

When her lunch tray was delivered, Sam took a break and considered her options. The best case scenario was that Major Mitchell would return with confirmation of the mirror pool’s existence, Sam would give over whatever intel this SGC needed and then she would return home.

Worst case scenario. For a moment, Sam realised the worst case scenario was that this SGC, this Alpha Site were somehow infiltrated by the Goa’uld. But no, she’d never felt the presence of a symbiote, not even the faint trace of an infant carried by a Jaffa. It was unlikely, then, that this base was somehow Goa’uld controlled.

The second worst case scenario was that there was no mirror pool and Sam would continue to be detained as a possible infiltrator. Then her only course of action would be escape and finding the Quantum Mirror.

And between those two options ... Sam needed more information. Where was the Quantum Mirror? Where was the remote? Was the Earth Gate defended? What was it that General O’Neill wouldn’t let his people tell her? Did this SGC have contact with any of the first four races? Or the Tollan? Had General O’Neill been pretending when he seem not to know of the Tok’ra?

There were so many questions that Sam’s head ached, as did her shoulder. On her lunch tray sat the little cup of pills that included her painkillers. Sam downed them with a gulp and then knocked on her door to get the attention of the SFs. Thanking them for taking her lunch tray, she asked for another ice pack and sat back down to work.

 

* * *

 

“There’s no Quantum Mirror, no pool, Major.” The General was leaning against the wall of the conference room while SG-1 sat around the table with her.

It was the first time Sam had seen all of the team together and she kept finding herself staring at them, bursting with curiosity. How could Daniel be the only person that she knew on the team? True, she knew Ishta, but as an ally, not a team mate.

Walking into this room, seeing SG-1 assembled, Sam had been forced to admit that she had been purposefully kept from learning anything that this command did not want her to know. And they were now accusing her of doing the same.

“You’re not surprised to hear that,” General O’Neill observed.

Sam pulled her thoughts back to the present. “After Major Mitchell spoke to me, I wrote a detailed account of all I could remember of the catacombs, both before and after I fell through the mirror pool.” Opening her journal, Sam let them all see her extensive notes, diagrams and maps.

“Given time to review what I could recall, I think there are some differences in the catacombs of this reality compared to my own. For example, the entrances are different.” Turning the pages, Sam showed them her diagrams of the stairs and vaulted ante-chamber.

Daniel reached out a hand to slide the notebook closer, then looked up, seeking permission. When Sam nodded, he pulled the book to rest in front of him, while the debriefing continued.

Sam’s gaze travelled to the two seated across from her. Mitchell’s eyebrow twitched and Jeanie looked like Santa had forgotten to visit her house. Ishta was sitting stiffly beside her, untrusting and alert.

“I accept that I have no proof of the differences, but there are others. The condition of the ruins and, I think, the layout of the catacombs. If I could travel back to PM5-173, I could -”

“Not happening, Major,” General O’Neill interrupted. “You’re not going anywhere near the Gate.”

Acknowledging him with a small gesture of surrender, Sam went on. “I had speculated previously that the Quantum Mirror, the device we found in our reality, wasn’t necessary at both ends of the traverse. If it was present, that was certainly helpful to the traveller, as it gave them a way to return to their original point of origin.”

Jeanie leant back in her chair as she gave Sam’s proposition thought. “So it’s not a device like the Stargate, which needs one at either end of the wormhole?”

“No,” Sam agreed. “We’ve theorised that it is a controlled singularity and the Quantum Mirror, when used with the remote, can adjust the parameters. However, a singularity could still exist and go to only one destination. The mirror pool ...”

“Might be a prototype of the Quantum Mirror,” Jeanie finished, excitement building as she shared Sam’s insight.

As Sam nodded with relief at Jeanie’s agreement, the General interrupted, “McKay?”

Turning towards him, Jeanie explained, “Major Carter may have encountered a primitive prototype of the Quantum Mirror, before the Ancients had mastered the technology.”

“That could well be right,” Daniel interjected. As all eyes turned to him, Daniel adjusted his glasses. “This is not Ancient construction. It’s much, much older. I won’t know how much until we can date the ruins, somehow. But the interesting thing is that there are signs of the Ancients having spent some time on PM5-173.”

“Just give us the bottom line, Daniel,” the General directed.

Daniel pushed back from the table so that he could better look at everyone “If the culture that built the structures on PM5-173 also constructed a primitive Quantum Mirror Pool,” he acknowledged Jeanie with a look, “And then the Ancients found it when they came to the planet. They might have then, uh,” Daniel gestured, trying to think of the word.

“Refined?” Major Mitchell offered.

“Yes! Refined that prototype into the Quantum Mirror that Sam has used.”

General O’Neill considered the theory. Sam resisted the urge to add her own thoughts to the debate. O’Neill needed to work it out with the help of his people, if at all possible. Her words would taint the conclusion, at least until he learned to trust her.

“So, there’s no pool on PM5-173 and that’s why we don’t have a Quantum Mirror?” The General finally asked.

“No, Sir. May I?” Jeanie responded, reaching to take Sam’s journal from Daniel. Quickly, she flipped through the pages until she found the one she needed. “We have this device.” Jeanie’s finger tapped a drawing Sam had made, an angular, roughly hewn piece of technology in the Ancient’s style. “This is your Mirror, right?” She asked Sam.

Sam nodded to Jeanie and turned to General O’Neill and shrugged. “I don’t know why there’s not a pool on PM5-173, but yes. That’s a drawing of the Quantum Mirror from my reality.”

O’Neill rubbed at his forehead before motioning towards the door. “Major Carter, could you wait outside with the SFs? I need a moment with my officers.”

“Of course, Sir,” Sam replied, getting to her feet. She took a last glance around the table and could see that Jeanie and Daniel, who had mostly believed her to begin with, were convinced. Mitchell was looking at least halfway persuaded. Ishta was unreadable which was no surprise. It had taken her months to get a handle on Teal’c’s expressions.

The General opened the door for her and she stepped out. After a brief command to the SFs to keep her there, O’Neill acknowledged Sam with, “Thank you, Major,” and shut the door.

Sam walked a few paces away and leant against the wall, smiling at the pair of SFs when they appeared concerned that she intended to leave. The flat pack walls of the corridor were the same creamy laminate of pack and assemble military installations as her own reality.

General O’Neill’s polite thank you as he’d shown her into the corridor was a change of tone from the Alpha Site’s commander. With all of the considerable resources of SG-1 finally assembled in a room with Sam to examine the evidence, perhaps he was beginning to trust her. And if the General trusted her and gave her access to the Mirror, she could think about going home.

Twenty-four hours. She would give this reality twenty-four more hours and all the intel she could convey in that time and then Sam would go home. Her team, the Colonel, would be beside themselves with worry. And Cassie. This had been an awful time for Sam to go missing and Sam began thinking of all the things they would do together when she returned.

Ten minutes passed while Sam waited in the hall. When the door opened, she shifted to parade rest and watched as SG-1 filed out of the room, none of them meeting her eyes as they walked away. As he went to turn the corner, Daniel looked back at her, his expression one of regret. Sam had already guessed the news was bad, but that confirmed it.

“Major!” The General called through the open door.

With a deep breath to clear her head, Sam re-entered the room. The General gestured for her to close the door and sit.

As he remained standing, the General cast his eyes over her, glancing to the open notebook on the table.

“You have a choice, Major,” General O’Neill’s voice steady, almost cold, as he laid it out for her. “We need your help, voluntarily or otherwise. It’s clear you’ve become the best asset we have to save Earth.”

Sam had expected bad news of some kind when SG-1 had left, but she was needed to _save Earth_? All the out of place, unexplained things began to make sense. Remarks about having run out of supplies, the presence of so many key SGC personnel at the Alpha Site, even the difficulty in verifying her identity against the other Samantha Carter’s records. If General O’Neill and the others here had no access to Earth …

“‘Voluntarily or otherwise’?” Sam asked, the implication of his phrasing sinking in.

“You have no way home. I’m prepared to offer you one, if you help us.” The General sat down opposite, gesturing to the drawing of the Quantum Mirror in her notes. “This is in storage at the Groom Lake facility. Help us with our Goa’uld problem and I’ll help you find the Mirror.”

“I won’t be held prisoner,” Sam insisted.

The General held her gaze, his expression determined. Sam watched him weigh up the options, her behaviour so far, the information that she had provided. “Your rank is honorary, you have no rights of command. Access to information, systems, communications and technology will be approved on a case by case basis by me and supervised by appropriate personnel. If you are prepared to meet those conditions, then I will dismiss the SFs.”

That was a reasonable offer, for now. There was so much that she needed to know, starting with what Earth needing saving from.

Sam took the pen from her pocket, turned the notebook to a new page and looked up at General O’Neill. “Then you’ll need to tell me what has been going on, Sir.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You need allies, Sir. Preferably ones who can offer ongoing protection, given that either Apophis or Anubis could retake Earth after it’s liberated.”
> 
> General O’Neill pursed his lips and considered. “The Kinsey Directive dictates the SGC maintains neutrality in relation to the Goa’uld and other threats in the galaxy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for your support, lovely comments and excited squees. A special shout-out all those who shared my Tumblr post last week - we did indeed get a lot of new readers. Welcome, guys!
> 
> * * *
> 
> As always, much love to Sarah_M, my beta and without whom this story would never be given to you in such a coherent format with all the self-indulgent author waffling taken out. <3

The conference room became her workspace. For two days, General O’Neill, SG-1 and a string of other SGC personnel came and went as Sam learnt all that she could about the occupation of Earth.

For the past four months the Alpha Site had been the only known outpost for the free Tau’ri - the free citizens of Earth. Primarily, that meant people associated with the SGC: civilians, consultants and military personnel. Just the people who had been in the mountain or off world when the Goa’uld attacked. Cheyenne Mountain was now presumably a pile of rubble after the self-destruct buried the Stargate and made Earth inaccessible.

What these people needed was a way to get back to Earth and defeat Apophis. And they seemed to think Sam could provide it. Already she felt weighed down with their hopes, the responsibility of coming up with a solution kept her working until late at night and getting out of bed at dawn.

The layout of the Alpha Site was becoming familiar, but on a late night visit to the mess tent for coffee and something sugar loaded she took a wrong turn. Sam stopped short in an unfamiliar hallway, caught off guard by the flickering candlelight. The wall was covered with photos, hand written notes, flowers, mementos and religious symbols. Anything too heavy to be pinned on the wall was on the table below, placed between the tea lights and pillar candles.

Sam’s chest tightened and she found herself unable to move away. Until now she had known the numbers, the names of the cities hit by the Goa’uld, but here was the first evidence she’d seen of the scale of personal loss. The self-destruct at the SGC had buried the facility in tonnes of rock, but the Goa’uld attack on the mountain and Colorado Springs had done most of the damage. The fate of the SGC’s families and friends, the personnel at Peterson, Fort Carson and the Air Force Academy was unknown.

General Hammond had ordered the evacuation to the Alpha Site and stayed behind with the frontline forces to guard the retreat. He’d been able to give them all thirty minutes before cutting the connection to the Gate and triggering the self-destruct.

Sam was overcome with emotion as her fingertips brushed the picture of General Hammond pinned to the wall. It tore at her heart to know he had made this last sacrifice, one that her George Hammond would also make without hesitation. The jolly faced General was surrounded by so many others - babies, children, loved ones, pets. In-between were poems, prayers, vacation snaps and pictures cut from magazines. Nearly all of those memorialised were dead, the fate of the rest uncertain.

The Jaffa Rebellion had been able to pass along some information - the cities worst hit, the fate of the major world leaders and the progress of the subjugation of Earth. But as long as space travel was the only way to reach Earth the fate of these individuals would remain unanswered.

The sound of scuffed footsteps brought Sam back to the present and she turned to find Jeanie approaching. The other scientist acknowledged her with a nod, taking in the tears on Sam’s cheeks. She reached out to the wall of photos and touched a face Sam recognised.

“Rodney,” Sam breathed. It was a publicity shot. His hair was thicker, face a little slimmer, but it was Rodney.

“He was in California, I think. So he might still be alive,” Jeanie told her. Then she reached towards another picture, an older woman, a teenage boy, both crouched, hands resting on the dog between them.

Sam puzzled over the picture, trying to place the people, then recognition pulled at a string of her heart. “Sara! And is ... is that Charlie?” Mouth open, she glanced at Jeanie, who nodded, and Sam turned back to the photo taking in the face that never had a chance to mature in her reality, her throat thick with tears. “He’s ... all grown up.”

“Charlie was a freshman at MIT,” Jeanie told her. “Boston wasn’t directly hit, so there’s a chance ...”

Unable to speak, Sam nodded. Charlie was possibly alive. General O’Neill must be beside himself with worry. Sam felt a little more sympathy for this frosty version of her CO. “Sara?” She asked, only able to manage the name.

“After they divorced Sara moved to Denver. We don’t know if Denver survived the initial Goa’uld attack.”

“Jack,” Sam whispered under her breath. Until seeing the wall of photos, the actual impact of the invasion on everyone here had been a problem, something to be solved. Now she was awash with the pain and loss, each face someone loved, someone missed, someone possibly gone.

“I hope you can forgive us,” Jeanie said.

Eyes wide in surprise, Sam turned to the mathematician. “Forgive you? What for?”

“For not telling you, not trusting you. For ... making you stay.”

“I have nowhere else to go, Jeanie,” Sam replied. “And, I’m grateful that you trust me now.”

“You don’t need to stay. You could go and find some of your allies. The Asgard or the Tollan,” Jeanie reasoned.

“They could be your allies too. Helping you all get back to Earth, to your families,” Sam turned back to the memorial, “Is good for all of us.”

Jeanie fell quiet, eyes roaming over the photos and notes. She reached to squeeze Sam’s shoulder, “Thank you.” Without saying anything more, she turned and continued on her way, leaving Sam to look at every face, read every note before heading to her quarters, the weariness of the events of the past week overcoming her.

 

* * *

 

Janet had cleared Sam for light exercise, so she joined the 0500 PT run. It would be another week, Janet told her, before she could start sparring again. General O’Neill was satisfied that the mixed company of Marines, Paras and Spec Ops could keep one reality displaced Major in line and had allowed her to begin exercising with them.

After a shower, Sam gathered breakfast and coffee from the Mess and headed to the meeting room that had become her temporary office. In her head, she kept thinking of it as her ‘lab’ and then correcting it to office. There was nothing laboratory like about the conference room, now wallpapered with notes and maps and poster sized print outs.

And, yet, there was something waiting for Sam that made it feel very much like her lab back home. Someone.

“Sir,” she blurted out, taken off-balance by the sense of déjà-vu as General O’Neill leaned casually against the table that had been pushed into a corner. “What are you ... I mean ... How can I help you?” Sam put her tray down on the table that had become her oversized desk and clutched her mug, tense. A glance at her watch confirmed that it was just after 0600. The General must be getting less sleep than she was.

General O’Neill straightened, although his hands were still deep in the pockets of his BDUs. Sam found herself comparing the two O’Neills. If she ignored the scars and the insignia at his collar, the man before her could have been the Colonel. Sam recognised the stance dictated by his bad knee and the unconscious fiddling with whatever was in his right pants pocket. She tamped down the impulse to ask him what it was, just to compare.

Her curiosity was left unanswered when the General gestured towards the walls, the visual record of the knowledge Sam had gathered in the past two days. At the centre of it all was a whiteboard, some sections boxed in red to remind her not to remove them, other areas almost grey with repeated erasing of ideas and theories.

“I’d like an update, Major.”

Sam recognised the suppressed impatience, General O’Neill was as much a man of action as the Colonel.

“Yes, Sir,” she answered, scanning the room. Taking a moment to go over what she’d learnt and to order her conclusions so far, Sam turned back to him. “I won’t recap everything, General, but may I summarise?”

He gestured for her to go ahead and Sam breathed in slowly, releasing it with a pulse steadying count and began. “Apophis has taken the major centres of population, first taking D.C., London and Beijing, and, after the self-destruct destroyed the SGC, LA. That gave him control of the major military networks.”

Moving away from a world map, Sam continued. “The problem with taking Earth has always been the size and spread of population. Even Apophis does not have enough Jaffa under his command to subjugate Earth without the space fleet to threaten and coerce governments into submission. And he has to continue to hold the rest of his territory.”

The General relaxed his stance, but Sam didn’t let her guard down. His eyes were bright and attentive as he asked, “If Earth is so difficult to hold, won’t Apophis’ ultimate goal be to reduce the population to a more manageable size?”

Sam already had an answer, she and Daniel had debated this yesterday and, by the look on General O’Neill’s face, he knew it, too. “It’s been four months, Sir. If Apophis had a workable plan for reducing the population I think he would have implemented it by now.”

“So why did he take Earth in the first place?”

He was testing her, wanting to see what she would admit to not knowing.

“Well, Sir. I can’t be sure, but after going over the intel from the rebel Jaffa and combining it with what I know from my own reality, I think it has something to do with Anubis.” Sam moved back to the table and booted up her laptop, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. What she was about to say was purely conjecture.

“Anubis? We’ve barely run in across the guy, snakehead, Goa’uld. Whatever,” O’Neill gestured vaguely to cover his discomfort at using what could be considered an slur by someone who was allied with the Tok’ra. “Apophis, I can kinda understand. We’ve been pissing him off since we started going through the Gate. The two times we’ve killed the snake- err, Goa’uld, probably aren’t viewed as friendly overtures, either.”

Sam nodded her head, giving a brief smile, “Same in my reality, Sir. But the difference between my System Lords and yours is that you have done little to bring yourselves to the attention of Anubis. In my reality there are more factions fighting for control of the territory of the Goa’uld, including the other allies of the Tau’ri and the Replicators.”

When he nodded permission for her to continue, Sam returned to her laptop, bringing up an image of the galaxy. “According to your own intel and that from the rebel Jaffa, the worlds in blue are controlled by Apophis, the worlds in red by Anubis. Ba’al, in orange, has a smaller but significant territory. The yellow worlds are those collectively held by the rest of the Goa’uld.”

“Yes, Major,” The General said slowly, his edginess showing again. “I was already aware of this.”

Sam swallowed, pacing back and forth as she made her point. “Anubis is the biggest threat in our reality because of the knowledge and powers he possesses. If Anubis wasn’t fighting multiple threats on multiple fronts, we might have already lost Earth to him. But here, in your Galaxy, he controls just as much territory and Apophis is his only major opposition.”

Crossing his arms — Sam guessed that he was trying to hide his impatience — General O’Neill said sharply, “So Apophis took Earth for strategic reasons? Not because we’re a threat.”

Sam inclined her head in partial agreement and ignored his tone. “I don‘t know for sure, Sir, but Earth is one of the first planets occupied by the System Lords and has also been visited by the Ancients and the Asgard. Apophis might want some kind of knowledge or technology that is somewhere on Earth. Or he has learnt that Anubis wants Earth for the same reason. Earth is in Apophis’ portion of the galaxy and he was in a good position to take it and control it.”

O’Neill played with his bottom lip while he thought and Sam had to suppress a smile. They were living in different universes and yet the two O’Neill’s shared so many quirks and mannerisms. How like him would a nineteen year old Charlie be? She put that speculation away in the place where she carried the grief for her friend’s loss of his son.

Finally, the General spoke, “Any idea what either of them could be looking for?”

Sam reached for the cold toast on her plate and shook her head. “No, Sir. Anubis in our reality was looking for an ultimate weapon, pieces of which were hidden on different planets, but not on Earth. It is possible that the SGC has some piece of technology that he wants. Or that it is somehow related to the Lost City.”

The General reached for the other half of the cold toast, asking before taking a bite, “The Lost City?”

Catching herself before she batted his hand away, Sam picked up the piece of local fruit she wanted to try before the General could take that. “That’s the project currently consuming my SGC. The Lost City of the Ancients, possibly called Atlantis. We’re hoping it will give us a way to defeat Anubis and the other System Lords.”

He fell silent again and Sam attempted to figure out how to eat the fruit that she’d secured. After turning it over in her hands twice, the General’s long fingers took the green globe from her, dug his thumbnail into the depression at one end and broke it open into five pieces. Sam considered the purple interior with amazement as he handed four of the pieces back to her. Acknowledging her thanks with a flick of an eyebrow — unscarred, Sam noted — General O’Neill bit into the inner flesh of the fifth piece like it was an orange segment.

Sam followed his lead, chewing and swallowing while she tried to work out the taste. “Cherry ... cherry -“

“Koolaid,” the General agreed. “Not bad, but they get a bit sickly if you eat too many. They also make your pee pink.”

Sam gawped and then laughed. “Phenolphthalein, Sir?”

“Jeannie said it was some kind of reaction to the base nature of urine.”

“Basic, uh, alkali,” Sam agreed. “That must have alarmed Janet for a while.”

General O’Neill grinned. “She had us all peeing in little cups for days.”

Sam laughed, surprising herself, and the General smiled at her, a gesture so familiar that it caught her off guard. _There you are, Jack O’Neill,_ she thought, stomach churning as a wave of homesickness welled up.

It must have shown on her face, because the General’s smile faded. “Major?”

Waving away his concern, Sam put the fruit back on her tray. “Sorry, Sir. I might need something more solid than a cup of coffee and a piece of fruit.”

“Go ahead,” the General motioned to her breakfast and sat down with her, waiting until she began to eat. “So if Anubis is looking for something on Earth, what do you suggest we do?”

Sam swallowed her mouthful of cold, powdered eggs. “Try and find it first,” she suggested, “But for that, you need to take back Earth.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, the multi-universal gesture for ‘obviously’.

“You need allies, Sir. Preferably ones who can offer ongoing protection, given that either Apophis or Anubis could retake Earth after it’s liberated.”

General O’Neill pursed his lips and considered. “The Kinsey Directive dictates the SGC maintains neutrality in relation to the Goa’uld and other threats in the galaxy.”

“Senator Robert Kinsey?” Sam nearly spat out the name.

“The very one.” O’Neill’s tone and the way he leaned nonchalantly back in his chair told Sam that he shared her opinion of the Senator.

“He’s not here, is he?” Sam asked, glancing over her shoulder in case naming him should invoke the devil.

“No. It’s not confirmed, but most of D.C. was destroyed by Apophis. It’s likely Senator Kinsey was killed.”

_Couldn’t have happened to a nicer fellow._

“What about allies obtained to defend Earth?” Sam asked.

General O’Neill smiled, the cold smile of a man who had reached the end of his patience. “I’m more of an ‘ask for forgiveness’ kind of guy.”

“I thought so, Sir.”

General O’Neill was not so different from his counterpart after all.

 

* * *

 

As the General let her eat the now cold breakfast, they discussed the agenda for a briefing on possible allies. He left to set up the meeting, leaving Sam to gather together the information that she had on those allies.

Of all of the possibilities, the Tau’ri in this world were only familiar with the Jaffa Rebellion. The Kinsey Directive had hampered the program for years, restricting avenues of exploration that had limited Earth’s exposure to alien races. Sam realised that this reality must be a large jump away from her own, possibly why they had never met any other alters.

Ishta had brought them their only alliance. Through her and the other Jaffa who defected from Moloc’s forces, they had met Teal’c and Bra’tac. It seems that, even without SG-1’s help, Teal’c and Bra’tac had turned against Apophis and were building a coalition of rebel Jaffa who were Earth’s only source of intel on the Goa’uld.

Sam missed lunch while she was checking her list of Allies’ Stargate addresses against this SGC’s. She was trying to narrow down the number of planets that would need to be visited once General O’Neill had settled on which race to approach first. Rubbing at the ache in her temples, Sam took a moment to rest her eyes, only to find herself being nudged with a sandwich.

“I thought you might be hungry,” Daniel told her, “I didn’t see you at lunch.”

Taking the sandwich, Sam unwrapped it, not even bothering to check what was on it before biting down.

“I just came from talking to Jack,” Daniel motioned over his shoulder with a thumb. “Tell me about the Lost City.”

Swallowing the mouthful of corned beef and mustard pickle, Sam protested, “We have a briefing in twenty minutes.”

“Then give me the highlights?” Daniel smiled sweetly, his eyes wide and eager. “Please?”

That smile got her right in the heart. Her own Daniel has used it on her more times than she could count. “Just the highlights,” Sam agreed with a roll of her eyes and Daniel’s smile only got wider.

She missed her guys. The people here were both familiar and strange, making it hard for Sam to relax around them. But her SG-1 ... Sam swore to you say yes to Jack’s next invitation for a team weekend at the cabin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major Mitchell turned to General O’Neill in mute appeal for his intervention. Sam did the same, wondering what it would take to get the General to agree.
> 
> “No,” he answered them both. “Major Carter is not cleared for Gate travel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all keep me going through the week with your comments and kudos! Thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts. And welcome to our new readers!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Wishing my lovely Beta, Sarah_M, many visits of the feelings fairy, she deserves it! <3 U!

Major Mitchell turned to General O’Neill in mute appeal for his intervention. Sam did the same, wondering what it would take to get the General to agree.

“No,” he answered them both. “Major Carter is not cleared for Gate travel.”

“Sir,” Sam began, gesturing to the monitor showing the camera feed from the MALP. “It’s exactly as I described. SG-1 needs my technical expertise on this, not to mention that they’re one team member down because Ishta can’t go.”

Mitchell’s fingers twitched against his thigh before he spoke. “Major Carter would be an asset on this mission, Sir. Her knowledge of Asgard technology, her familiarity with Cimmeria—” The Major stopped as the General gestured dismissively towards him.

“My decision stands, Mitchell. Major Carter is not cleared for Gate travel,” he repeated. “If you encounter any problems with the technology or Thor’s Labyrinth, she is but a phone call away.”

Sam pressed her lips together and turned her head, listening as Mitchell got leave to suit up. When he was gone, she turned back and asked for permission to return to her office.

The General considered her for a moment, probably reading the frustration and hurt in the set of Sam’s shoulders, before jerking his chin toward her. “Dismissed, Major.”

She was proud of the way she left the command module, proud of how she kept her chin up and smiled at the personnel she passed, proud of the way she didn’t slam the door to her office behind her. If no one else saw the way she slapped her hands on her desk in frustration then Sam couldn’t be charged with insubordination.

There were reasons, sound reasons, that the General hadn’t cleared her for Gate travel. Reasons she could understand - she was a security risk, a flight risk and, right now, the SGC’s greatest asset in their objective to retake Earth. But it still infuriated Sam that the General didn’t trust her to do her duty or defend the team if they got into trouble.

She still looked at him and saw her Colonel, her Jack O’Neill and expected him to behave the same - to know her the way _he_ knew her.

Sam tried to tell herself that it was about not being able to work, wanting to do her job properly.

But if it was just about that, if it was only about missing her Colonel’s leadership then why did she dream about him?

Dream about walking down the ramp into his embrace? About pulling up outside his house, seeing the lights on, knowing he was waiting for her? Rolling over in her barely used, lonely bed and finding him there, bare chested, eyes sleepily meeting hers in the early morning light?

Sam had moved on, _he_ had moved on, she was sure. She didn’t ask what he did on his days off, didn’t know who he took to the cabin on vacation. _Not her concern_ , she told herself, because they were both past it, over it, done.

The knock on her office door dragged her back to the current universe and away from the one she might never see again.

“Come in,” Sam called, turning away from the door as she steeled her expression.

Jeanie’s voice came from the doorway. “I’m sorry, Sam, I just came for the ...”

“Right. Of course,” Sam nodded, reaching for the small pile of notes on the desk. “Accessing the Hall of Thor's Might is straightforward. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble.” Holding the papers out to Jeanie, Sam was forced to meet her eyes when the woman hesitated to take them.

Pushing the door closed with a quiet click, Jeanie took a breath before speaking. “If you want to talk, Sam, about your home, your ... people I'd, I'd be happy to listen. To learn more about them.” Jeanie’s expression was earnest and open, letting Sam see that the offer made her anxious.

For a moment, Sam longed to unload, to tell Jeanie about her Jack, her SG-1 but she stopped the words before they could leak out. “Thank you.”

Both women looked at each other, a spark of shared understanding kindling between them.

“Sometimes the guys just don’t...” Jeanie trailed off.

“I know,” Sam agreed. “Really, thank you. I don’t know if I would have made it as far as you have without the military. I’d like to know more about you, too.”

“When we get back?” The curly haired doctor offered.

“We should have a girls’ night — ask Janet. And Ishta, if she likes that sort of thing.”

“You’re on,” and Jeanie broke out in a broad smile before taking the notes on Asgard technology from Sam. “Fingers crossed that our Asgard are as helpful as yours.”

 

* * *

 

Sam walked Jeanie to the Gate, then stood in the control room as they confirmed their arrival and check in time before breaking contact.

While it was mid morning on Cimmeria, here it was past dinner time and the light was fading. After leaving the control room, Sam decided that she couldn’t face an evening alone in her office. She found Janet finishing her shift in the infirmary and together they walked to the mess for dinner.

Dinner led to a game of Scrabble in which Sam managed to hold her own, despite playing against a doctor, intelligence analyst and a meteorologist.

They walked back to Sam’s bunk, both of them laughing. Outside the door, Janet wrapped her arms around the blonde in farewell. Surprised by the friendly gesture, Sam found herself tearing up. Janet held her tight, patting her back.

“You alright?” The Doctor asked, as she pulled back.

Nodding, Sam swallowed. “Yeah. It’s just ... been a while.” She struggled to explain, even to herself, why that moment had tugged at her emotions.

Janet gave her arms a squeeze. “You’re not alone here. I know you’re missing your home, your friends, but we’re happy to have you here. Happy to be your friends, for as long as you need.”

“I don’t think ... I mean, it’s been a long time since anyone’s given me a hug.” Sam averted her eyes awkwardly, embarrassed by the neediness of that statement.

“Need another?” Janet offered.

With a laugh, Sam gave an abashed shrug and they embraced again and when it was over, Janet teased, “Hugs are medically recommended, you know.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Good for you in all kinds of ways, like having a pet or talking to plants.”

“I don’t have plants, or a pet. Unless you count Daniel.”

Janet’s laugh echoed down the hallway. “He is a bit like an overexcited puppy, isn’t he?”

“Adorable,” Sam added.

“Bouncy.”

“Earnest.”

“Loyal.”

“He is,” Sam’s tone turned reflective. “Very loyal. To the General, in particular.”

Janet nodded her agreement. “Are they close in your reality?”

“Yes.” Sam felt a stab of pained jealously for this universe where Daniel and Jack were close but she wasn’t a part of it - of them. “But, it’s different. Teal’c, Daniel, the Colonel — we’re all close. Like family.”

The petite doctor’s gaze travelled away from hers for a moment. “I don’t know how long you’re staying, Sam, but while you’re here, lean on us, okay? You’re going to go crazy, otherwise.”

Sam swallowed down the advice, resisting the urge to deflect it. “Have you and Jeanie been talking?” She asked, realising that it was the second time today that she’d been told that she had friends in this universe.

“No, why?”

“Because she told me the same thing before she left for Cimmeria. And that we should hang out together, us girls.”

Janet grinned widely. “She’s right. Actually, we haven’t done anything together for months. Not since ...” she trailed off. “Maybe you’re not the only one who needs to be reminded she has friends.”

Sam leaned back against her doorframe. “When she gets back, we should.”

“Definitely,” Janet agreed, smothering a yawn and triggering Sam’s own.

Waving her off with a hand, Sam said. “Bed. For both of us. Night, Jan.”

With a last hug, Janet bid her goodnight and Sam went to sleep feeling a little less alone.

 

* * *

 

It shouldn’t have surprised Sam to find the General waiting in her office at 0600 with his breakfast tray. Just after 0430 they had both been called to the control room to meet the returning SG-1.

“Sir,” Sam said, sitting down at the meeting table that had become her desk. The General acknowledged her arrival with a wave of his spoon. “Oatmeal?”

“Fruit Loops ran out a month ago. Fortunately we still have brown sugar,” he answered.

Sam smiled into her bowl of fruit topped oatmeal, stirring the dollop of yoghurt into it.

“What?” He questioned.

“Why do you suppose it is that you both like Fruit Loops?” Taking a mouthful of oatmeal, Sam raised her eyes to his.

“Your O’Neill likes Fruit Loops?”

“And Captain Crunch, if the Mess is out.”

General O’Neill considered this and then nodded, “We’re completely out of anything my mother would frown at. I blame the Marines — they’d eat grass if you coated it in sugar.”

Sam snorted her amusement. “Unlike Air Force Generals.”

He was going to protest and then shrugged, “Coffee and sugar — the essentials of command. Didn’t you learn that in your universe?”

Scraping at the sides of her bowl, Sam considered what to say next. She’d been getting by on six hours or less of sleep each night for the past week. The General had been doing it for going on five months. Both Janet and Jeanie had reached out to her yesterday, but who looked out for General O’Neill? Still pondering, Sam began spreading jam on her cold toast.

“So no response from your Asgard friends,” the General noted, “Do we wait around for them to check the answering machine?”

Sam sucked slowly on her bottom lip considering, “Why not hedge our bets and try the Tollan or the Nox?”

“You were sceptical that either would be willing to help.”

“I still am, but what does it hurt to try?”

The General gazed at her, considering the question. She could see the weariness in his eyes, the tired lines drawn on his skin. “Hope, Major,” he replied, voice soft, “It’s in short supply.”

“There are other things that we can try. And the Asgard might still get back to you.” She felt the weight of their expectations — his expectations. In her own reality, the Colonel looked to her for the fix. Here, it had quickly become the same. “I don’t think it would make a difference, but I could go to Cimmeria and try again.”

The General picked up his butter knife, balancing its tip against his breakfast tray. “If you thought it might help ...”

Sam shook her head. “I don’t, but maybe in a couple of days, if there’s no contact from the Asgard?”

He pursed his lips, considering, and then nodded. There was a long pause before the General spoke again. “I’ll go with you. And, I'm sorry about yesterday. I should have given you my decision in private.”

Sam finished her toast, thinking over a reply. Telling her in front of Mitchell and the personnel in the control room was discourteous, but not really the thing that bothered her. “May I speak freely, Sir?” He nodded, so she continued, “I understand why, Sir, but when I feel I can add to the mission, I will say so.”

“You assume a lot, Major,” the General noted, leaning stiffly into the table.

“I know my strengths, Sir. And, with respect, in my universe your counterpart does too. I am used to him trusting my judgement. If I say I should join a mission, it’s because I think I will be able to help.”

General O’Neill pushed back from the table, resting against the back of his chair. For a long moment, his eyes travelled over Sam, fingers idly drumming on the edge of his tray. “You are too valuable to risk in the field,” he held up a finger to forestall her protest, “When the mission does not absolutely need your assistance. If SG-1 had not been successful in activating the Hall of Thor’s Might, I would have sent you through with SG-7.”

Sam swallowed and then nodded. It was hard to accept that he considered her too valuable to lose, that her life was worth more than the other people under his command. When she looked up, General O’Neill was gazing at her and the expression on his face made her heart stop. There was the man who would rather die than lose her.

“Sir,” she said breathlessly, _Jack_.

She couldn’t break away, some thread that had existed between them pulled tight. In that moment, she could see that he felt it, too.

Then the General rubbed at his face and checked his watch. “SG-1’s debriefing is in five. I’m passing the mess, can I take your tray?” He stood, holding out his hand.

Sam pushed it towards him, still off balance. “I just want to help.”

General O’Neill stacked the trays together, each movement methodical. “I know,” he said, squeezing her shoulder as left, hand lingering a few moments longer than was absolutely necessary for the gesture.

Waiting until the General left, Sam closed her eyes, heart beating fast as if it needed to make up time. This broke the rules. He was not her Jack, she was not the right Sam. She was going home and to have, _to love_ , two of them was impossible. Unthinkable. Except that she was thinking it.

She needed to unthink it. Major Carter was here to solve a problem, do a job — save Earth, go home. And she needed to work out how.

The Colonel’s words came to her, again, conjured by the familiar touch.

_You’ll think of something, you always do._

 

* * *

 

It was Daniel who came up with the next idea. Apparently SG-1, minus Ishta, had discussed it on the way back to the Cimmerian Gate, and they were all keen to try it.

The General’s gaze fell on Sam as Daniel made his final plea.

“Even if it isn’t the address of the Lost City that Sam’s people are searching for, what does it hurt to try?” Daniel asked. “The tablet is in Ancient and it’s similar to the one that Sam’s me was studying.”

Sam bit her cheek to avoid smiling and raised one shoulder towards the General. _Hope_ , echoed in her mind.

“Alright, SG-1. Eight hours rack time. While you sleep, Major Carter will supervise the MALP recon for the new address.” A look around the table had them all agreeing. “We’ll schedule the departure once we know the local time.”

“Sir, there’s one other requirement for the mission,” Sam interjected.

“What’s that, Major?”

“You, Sir. Ancient technology is only activated by those carrying a particular gene marker and, to the best of my knowledge, you’re the only one here who has it. Any Ancient devices or technology won’t work for us. Only for you.”

Around the table, all the faces appeared concerned. General O’Neill was the highest known ranking member of what was left of the free Earth military. Risking him during a field operation was as much a problem, if not more, as exposing Sam to the same.

“We’ll take SG-7 as well, then. Major Mitchell, could you bring them up to speed?” Mitchell nodded and the General got to his feet, everyone else rising with him. “Dismissed. Mitchell, Carter, a moment, please.”

Jeanie and Daniel walked away, talking excitedly about what they hoped to find. Ishta trailed behind them after exchanging a nod with Mitchell. They all waited until the others were out of hearing and then the General addressed the two Majors.

“I’d like Carter to come along on this one, too. There’s no point in going if we don't understand what we find. With SG-7 along, and with Major Carter’s field abilities, we should have the firepower covered.”

Mitchell glanced sideways at Sam, his eyes dancing as he suppressed a smile. “Glad to have her along, Sir.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Sam added, searching the General for any sign of their earlier exchange. Something was definitely different between them.

The General’s eyebrow twitched, but he kept whatever he was thinking to himself. “Mitchell, you’ll set Carter up with the appropriate field gear before we head out tomorrow. Major,” he turned to address Carter, “You report to Mitchell in the field and hold equal rank to the rest of SG-1. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” Sam said, unable to hide her smile.

The General dismissed them with a wave and the two Majors turned and walked away together. Mitchell clapped Sam on the back. “Welcome to SG-1, Major.”

Sam snorted, “Welcome back to SG-1, you mean.”

 

* * *

 

SG-7 held the gate open as they made their retreat across the grassy plane. Two Death Gliders swooped over them as Ishta stopped and aimed, taking out the first with a blast from her staff.

Daniel and Sam guided the stumbling, barely conscious General O’Neill between them, holding him up with an arm each about his waist. McKay ran in front of them, picking out the smoothest trail she could and Mitchell followed up from behind, pausing to fire off a burst at the second Glider.

McKay reached the Gate first, crouching by the DHD for cover. A shout from SG-7 drew their attention to the squad of Jaffa that exited the brush two hundred meters away.

“Claymores,” Mitchell screamed as they cleared the inner security perimeter that SG-7 had set up.

“Holding!” Came the reply, SG-7 laying down cover fire until the Jaffa came within range.

“McKay, go!” Mitchell ordered and Jeanie raised herself to a crouch and ran for the Gate. Sam and Daniel had no such option for minimising their profile. They just kept running, hoping the Jaffa were too far away to get off an accurate blast.

“Stairs, Sir!” Sam yelled as they reached the Gate, she and Daniel hauling the dazed General up the steps and stumbling into the event horizon as the munitions exploded. The General hadn’t understood her command, or had been unable to react in time. As they entered the wormhole, Sam hoped they hadn’t bruised his legs too badly as they mounted the steps, he might never let her off world again.

Rematerialised, Daniel urged Sam to help the General off to the side of the Alpha Site’s Gate, out of the line of fire. There were no blast doors, here, just sandbags, open ground and a squad of SFs to defend the camp. They settled the General with his back against a sandbag wall, all of them breathing heavily.

Sam turned back to the Gate as Mitchell and Ishta emerged, a staff blast kicking up the soil and blocking the line of sight. She heard the Gate dematerialise before the air cleared again and revealed that all of SG-7 were present. With a moan of relief, Sam sagged to the ground.

“We all made it,” she told Daniel and the General.

Given the all clear, Daniel leapt upright, calling out to the staff standing beyond the blast radius, “Medic!” As the medical staff approached, he turned to Sam. “What was that?”

Sam shook her head as Janet reached them, instead talking to the doctor.

“The General’s had an encyclopaedia of galactic knowledge downloaded into his brain. He’s in shock and his brainwave patterns will have changed. It will continue to unpack over the next few days, eventually overloading his nervous system.”

“And then?” Janet asked.

“It’ll be fatal, unless we can get the Asgard to reverse it.”

Stone faced, Janet nodded and Sam recognised the set of the doctor’s jaw. She’d seen Janet’s refusal to accept a prognosis many times before. Knowing better than to distract her into an argument then and there, Sam stepped back, letting the medical team do their work.

“What was that?” Daniel asked again. Sam gestured him to walk with her as Mitchell, McKay and Ishta joined the group trailing the General back to the Infirmary.

“A Repository of the Ancients,” Sam answered. “A collection of all their knowledge. It will overwrite the General’s brain over the next few days until,” letting out a long sigh, “Until it kills him. Unless we can get the Asgard to help.”

“The same Asgard we tried to ask for help, yesterday?” Mitchell asked.

“Yes. But we may have help, now. In my reality, Colonel O’Neill was able to use the knowledge in the repository to travel to the Asgard’s galaxy.” It was an awkward though, but she voiced it regardless, “In a way, it may be what we need.”

“Risky way to get their attention,” McKay remarked, shocked.

“I volunteered to do it,” Sam said sharply, shoulders tense.

“Do not blame yourself, Sam,” Ishta said from behind her. “O’Neill has never been one to let others risk their lives.”

“No,” Daniel and McKay agreed in unison.

“He considers you more valuable,” Ishta added.

Although she was trying to comfort Sam, Ishta’s words just laid the guilt more heavily on Sam’s shoulders. What if this was about more than her strategic value? They already had her knowledge. These people needed General O’Neill more than they needed a long shot at saving Earth.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam snorted as she reached for her bowl. “You’ll find a way out of it, Sir,” Sam told him, putting more confidence into the statement than she felt. “When my O’Neill had the Repository of the Ancients -“
> 
> “Encyclopaedia Galactica,” the General interjected.
> 
> That made Sam grin, “- Downloaded into his head, the download seemed to have some sort of failsafe, providing him with what he needed to know to reach out to the Asgard for help.”
> 
> The General eyed her, “Major, did you plan this out so that I would be forced to contact the Asgard?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for skipping a week! The new school year had this mum on the run. But we’re back!
> 
> Thanks to the most adorable Sarah_M, the loveliest of betas.

The General’s growl followed the less-than-impressed nurse who stepped through the curtains around his infirmary bed. Sam tightened the grip on her tray of breakfast as the nurse stopped short at the sight of her.

“Can I see him?” Sam asked.

“You can _have_ him,” he muttered quietly and then held the curtain back for Sam to pass through.

“Sir?” She announced her presence, relieved to see a matching tray in front of the General. “You couldn’t come to me for breakfast, so I thought I might join you.”

Rolling his eyes, the General gestured to the seat beside the bed, making room on his table. Sam squeezed her tray into place beside his and sat down.

“I’m confined to the infirmary, doctor’s orders,” he grumbled.

“I’m afraid I'm partially responsible for that, Sir,” Sam told him, taking her bowl of oatmeal and sitting back in her seat as she ate. “I advised Janet on your condition.”

“‘My condition?’” The General asked, obviously dubious about the term. “That makes it sound like I'm pregnant.”

Sam snorted as she reached for her bowl. “You’ll find a way out of it, Sir,” Sam told him, putting more confidence into the statement than she felt. “When my O’Neill had the Repository of the Ancients -“

“Encyclopaedia Galactica,” the General interjected.

That made Sam grin, “- Downloaded into his head, the download seemed to have some sort of failsafe, providing him with what he needed to know to reach out to the Asgard for help.”

The General eyed her, “Major, did you plan this out so that I would be forced to contact the Asgard?”

“No, Sir!” She answered emphatically. “Although, when I saw what it was ...” her oatmeal became fascinating as she stirred it.

“Although?”

“I wanted to do it, Sir, get the information to contact them.” Taking a spoonful of the warm porridge, Sam wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I know,” he told her. “Which is why I couldn’t let you do it.”

“Why?” Sam asked. “Why put yourself in danger instead?”

“I’m just a tired, old soldier. My people need you more than they need me.”

Sam fell quiet, setting the empty bowl back on her tray. “I don’t agree, Sir.”

“I'm putting Mitchell in command at the first sign of,” the General gestured with barely suppressed frustration at his head, “Whatever it is that is going to happen to my brain.”

“Overwritten,” Sam supplied, twisting her fingers together. “First the language centres and then ...”

“Carter!” He said brusquely. When her head snapped up in shock, General O’Neill waving an apology, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh.” Sam continued to gaze at him, struck dumb.

Running a hand through his silver hair, the General said, “I'm sorry for snapping.”

“No,” she shook her head, “That’s not it.”

The General’s tone softened, “Then what?”

_Carter_. He’d called her Carter, in a tone as familiar as his face. Sam’s heart was racing painfully and a part of her wanted to laugh out loud at the absurdity of that chiding voice triggering a wave of longing.

With a deep breath, she purposely steered the conversation in a different direction. “Sir, I think we should prepare for when you visit the Asgard. If the knowledge unfolds for you the way it did for Colonel O’Neill, then you will be able to alter the Gate’s power supply enough to dial an eight chevron address and travel to the Asgard’s galaxy. But only once.”

“What kind of preparations?” He asked, smoothly moving with her change of topic.

“I think we should both go.”

 

* * *

 

“Why do _you_ need to go, Sam?” Mitchell asked as SG-1, the General and Sam stood or leaned against the table in her office. “The General’s right about your value to us. What if the Asgard haven’t answered because they aren’t there? And you can’t get back? We’d lose both of you.”

“Because I can help them,” Sam answered. “The Asgard are most likely engaged in a war with a race of artificial intelligence called the Replicators. In my reality we have provided strategic and technological assistance that has significantly turned the tide in the Asgard’s favour.”

“They’re probably not answering because they can’t or are preoccupied,” Daniel supplied. “That gives us a bargaining chip.”

“Something we can trade for their help in freeing Earth,” the General concluded. Janet had released him from the infirmary under supervision an hour ago. He’d immediately tackled the paperwork for transferring command to his 2IC and then gathered the team together for this briefing. “I think it’s worth the risk,” General O’Neill turned to Mitchell. “There’s less than 200 people here. We’ve had four months to find another way to free Earth. We need the Asgard to help us fight Apophis.”

Silence settled over the room as each of them felt the weight of the lives of those left behind on Earth. They had developed a kind of operational numbness that allowed them to get out of bed each day and go on, but when reminded the bleakness of the situation it was overwhelming.

“So, we need a plan, people,” the General’s tone pulled them back to the present. “When I start to go Ancient, we have to be ready. Off world gear, negotiation strategy, command objectives.”

It didn’t matter how he denied it, Sam could see that these people needed General O’Neill. One by one, he coaxed and goaded them out of their anguish and sorrow, assigning them meaningful work, talking about their objectives as if they were a certainty rather than a faint hope.

After a few minutes, Sam was alone with the General.

“Get moving, Carter.”

“This is my office, Sir,” Sam reminded him.

“Right.” He glanced around, picked up an ovoid that Daniel had left on her desk hoping she could identify it, and sat down in her spare chair.

“Sir?” She asked, “Haven’t you got your own office?”

“On medical leave,” he answered her, rolling the egg sized device across his palm. “Going to brush up on my juggling.” With a deft twist, he set the object rolling across the back of his hand, toying with the irregular movement.

“Does it have to be here, Sir?” Sam found herself experiencing another moment of déjà vu. Mentally, she bemoaned the all too familiar distraction that he was going to be.

Then he looked at her and grinned, the ovoid still rolling on his hand. “Doc said someone had to supervise me.”

_Damn you, Jack O’Neill._ That accursed smile did it every time and both O’Neill’s knew it.

Sam gave in, pulling her laptop close and entering the password as she sat down. “Well, I have useful things to do even if you don’t.”

Satisfied, General O’Neill leant back in his chair and not so subtly watched as Sam got to work.

 

* * *

 

It was way above his pay grade, but the General fetched Sam lunch, arguing that he had nothing better to do. Sam relished the chance to work for ten minutes uninterrupted and conceded with barely a grumble.

When he returned with a single tray piled high with sandwiches, fruit and cake, General O’Neill convinced her to stop typing and spend a few minutes eating.

Half way through a tuna salad sandwich, Sam found herself fixing on him. Long, deft fingers unwrapping his second sandwich sitting casually across from her. Something in the last day or so had changed. It couldn’t just be that strange moment of connection that they’d shared over breakfast the day before. The deep furrows around his eyes had eased, his shoulders — his whole upper body — moved differently. More relaxed, more _Jack_ than ever.

The General froze as he caught her staring, sandwich half way to his mouth.

“You’re wrong, Sir, by the way,” Sam told him.

He raised an eyebrow at her, “Wrong, Major?”

“They need you more than they need me. You underestimate how much you’re keeping them together.”

Biting into the sandwich, General O’Neill chewed slowly, his gaze unwavering.

“I didn’t want to be a General,” he told her after he swallowed, putting his sandwich down, twisting the discarded plastic wrapper between his fingers. “Hammond talked me into it, said I was a better choice for the programme than some Pentagon desk jockey. And I was two years away from a medical discharge, maybe less,” the General indicated his knee and Sam nodded. “He stayed behind. Did you know?”

“I did,” Sam said, turning her head in the direction of the memorial outside the mess. “My Hammond would have done the same.”

“Hammond _ordered_ me to go through the Stargate. When I refused he said he’d get the SFs to haul me up the ramp and throw me through.” General O’Neill stopped, appearing surprised at the anger in his own words. He looked down at the stretched and twisted plastic wrap in his hands.

“He made the right decision. You’re younger and fitter, better suited to command a field operation.” Pausing, Sam considered whether or not to say the next thought aloud. “And Hammond would want you to have a chance at saving Charlie.”

She might as well have slapped him for the wounded look that crossed his face. Then the General’s shoulders slumped and he wiped a hand over his face. Shuffling her chair closer, close enough that their booted feet touched, Sam leaned toward him, her own head bowed. “Jeanie told me that he’s at MIT.”

“Freshman,” he said.

“You and Sara must be phenomenally proud.”

“We are. She ... was. He was home at Christmas, trying to convince me to buy him a car.”

Sam chuckled, “Boston’s not a great place to have a car.”

“That’s what Sara told him. She’d been out to see him a few times. I only made it out there for move-in weekend.” General O’Neill pushed himself back up to sitting. “If he’d had a car ...”

“Don’t do that to yourself. No one knows what happened to Boston. You’ll see him again, Jack. If anyone can get back to Earth and find Charlie, it’s you.” She reached for his hand, taking it in hers in a way she never could have with her own Jack.

His thumb brushed over the back of her hand in acknowledgement and they shared comfort for a few heartbeats. Drawing her own hand back as he pulled away, Sam shifted her chair back and resumed eating her sandwich in silence

“Derentis,” Jack cursed, shaking his head.

“Sorry?”

“This is derentis. I want to be doing something. Not just sitting around waiting for my fron to explode,” he said, tapping a finger to his head.

Sam washed the last bite of tuna sandwich down with a swig of water. “Not much, longer, Sir. You’ve started speaking Ancient. And there’s something that I want to try.”

 

* * *

 

By dusk they had gathered a crowd in the tent that Jeanie used for a lab. Ishta and Mitchell were sitting on a crate, a pair of TAC vests and backpacks by their feet, P90s laid out nearby. Daniel had become Jack’s translator, the pair of them communicating in notes as the General’s vocal abilities faded. Jeanie and Sam faced the General from the opposite side of the workbench, breaking the taut silence with an occasional question or suggestion.

At the centre of their focus was a Naquadah generator, a disassembled staff weapon and a silver haired General who scowled at every question and interruption.

With a look of frustration, Sam stepped away and came to stand by Mitchell.

“This was your idea,” he reminded her. “You wanted to try the memory recall exercises and accelerate the process.”

Sam sighed. “I didn’t think it would inhibit his language so quickly. I hoped he might have access to the knowledge to build the enchanted reactor without losing the ability to share with us how he did it.”

Patting Sam on the shoulder Cam said, “Well, the sooner the two of you get to the Asgard, the sooner Earth gets help.”

Lapsing into silence, Sam watched the General work for a few minutes. “You left family behind?”

“I’m from Kansas,” he told her. “Big family. They mostly live out in the boonies. Finally there’s a positive to living in the middle of nowhere,” Cam huffed at his own joke, but there was little humour in it.

“They got enough sense to stay out of the way?” Sam asked.

“Hell no. Well, the young ones won’t. But my grandma’ll have them all organised into some kind of civil corps. They’ll be running a soup kitchen out of the Church and going round to all the old folks, making sure they’re alright.”

“Thank heavens for people like your Grandma. At least there’s going to be something to go back to.”

Cam nodded his agreement and was about to say something else when Daniel’s voice brought him to a halt.

“I think he’s done,” Daniel announced. As everyone present turned to General O’Neill, he asked, “You’re done, Jack?”

The General nodded firmly and looked around the room at his team and Sam. He pointed at her and then at the gear by her feat and Sam began to suit up. With another gesture, Ishta and Jeanie moved to pick up the toolbox and assortment of wires on the bench. Cam helped Sam clip on her backpack and then grabbed the P-90s. Then everyone was scrambling to follow the General as he grasped the generator and left the tent.

In ten minutes, the generator was hooked up to bypass the Gate’s regular power supply and Daniel was holding a scrap of paper with a scribbled Gate address. Sam stood back as SG-1 clustered around the General, each bidding him goodbye. He shared a hug with Daniel, Jeanie and then Cam and clasped Ishta’s forearm, letting their foreheads meet.

Then, with a gesture to Daniel to dial it up, General O'Neill strode to Sam’s side. She helped him into his vest and handed him the second P-90.

“All good, Sir?” Sam asked.

The General reached for her shoulder, squeezing it until she met his eyes. Then he blinked, slow and deliberate, his fingers pressing harder into her TAC vest.

“It’s going to be alright,” Sam told him, her voice just loud enough for the two of them.

He nodded, face surprisingly calm, his eyes holding hers. It felt to Sam as if he really knew it would be ok. Guilt and anxiety that she hadn’t realised she’d been carrying, lifted from her shoulders as the General pulled his hand away.

The blue light of the forming wormhole splashed across the clearing in front of the Gate, temporarily overpowering the illuminating floodlights. They all stood in silence, staring at the event horizon until the General raised his hand in the air and signalled that they should move.

Sam glanced back over her shoulder just before she stepped through to see her new friends waving farewell. Hoping they were right, that they would find the Asgard on the other side, Sam stepped through.

 

* * *

 

She stumbled out of the Gate at the other end, just a step behind General O’Neill. It wasn’t as bad as her first trip through the Stargate to Abydos, back in the days before she had calculated the adjustment for the expansion of the universe. Her head swam a little, but she kept her feet as she breathed through it.

“Well, Sir,” she began, once it felt safe to move. She turned just as he toppled, face forward, to the floor. It was only years of honed reflexes that allowed Sam to catch him and lower his dead weight down to rest.

Feeling General O’Neill’s throat for a pulse, she scanned their surroundings. They were inside an Asgard structure, ribs of silver supported a long hallway that ran as far as she could see in either direction. And as far as she could see, there was no one here.

“Hello?” Sam called. “We’re looking for the Asgard.” She paused, listening for a response. “Thor? Freyr? Heimdall?”

No response. Rolling the General into the recovery position against the shelter of the wall, Sam gripped her P-90, taking a few cautious steps down the hall. “Hello? We need the Asgard's help.”

A pattering noise drew her attention and Sam turned to see an Asgard hurrying towards her. She’d never seen an Asgard running and the sight was so shocking, she froze.

“What? What help do you need?” The Asgard snapped between panting breaths. “Why do you make Sigyn run?”

“I’m, I'm sorry,” Sam said, letting the P-90 hang loose at the front of her vest. “It’s just that we come here on an urgent mission and my friend here, General O’Neill, needs your help.”

“Oh, they all say that. ‘We need help, Sigyn.’ ‘It’s urgent, Sigyn.’ ‘Why can’t you work faster, Sigyn.’ If Sigyn didn’t get so many interruptions, Sigyn would be finished by now!” The Asgard shook its head, turned, and began to pad its way back down the hall.

“Wait! Aren’t you going to help him?” Sam began to chase the Asgard, and then stopped, looking back to the General, her anguish clear. “We came all this way to get your help. Please.”

“Yes, yes,” Sigyn said to her, still walking away. “You will bring him. Sigyn will help. Then Sigyn will go back to work.”

Sam watched the retreating Asgard, stunned. Then she swung into action, looping her arms under the General’s armpits and beginning to drag him down the hallway. This was just another thing the General could add to his list of reasons to revoke her off world privileges. She hoped he would remain unconscious until she got him to wherever Sigyn was leading them.

Thankfully, it wasn’t far. A few ribs down, they turned into a hallway and then Sigyn led them into a large room, the back walls lined with cylinders holding preserved bodies of other incarnations of the Asgard. Sam removed General O’Neill’s vest and hoisted him up on to the low medical bed that Sigyn indicated.

“You’re researching Asgard physiology, trying to reverse the genetic degradation.”

“Yes, yes. That is Sigyn’s work, to save the Asgard from themselves.” The Asgard’s hands began moving over the console attached to the bed. “Well I see the problem. Gone sticking his head where he should not, hmm?”

The way Sigyn mused as it asked the question told Sam that it was purely rhetorical. “He is General Jack O’Neill, I'm Major Samantha Carter. Of the Tau’ri.”

“Long way to come for help. You must be desperate to meet Sigyn.”

Okay, so this Asgard was a little cracked. Probably from being left alone here. “Are you all on your own? Where are the other Asgard?”

“Out,” Sigyn answered, making it sound like they’d all popped down to the corner store for some milk. “Sigyn stayed here to save the Asgard race.”

“They’re fighting the Replicators?”

Sigyn left the medical bed and was halfway across the room when Sam’s question stopped it and it turned back. “He does not know the Replicators. But you know their name? How?”

“Have you looked in his head?” Sam asked, ignoring the question. “Can you help him?”

“Already done,” Sigyn answered with a dismissive gesture towards General O’Neill. “He will sleep for a short while to recover. How do you know the Replicators? We have no records of them being observed in your home galaxy.”

“I’m not from there. Not the Earth in this universe. I come from a universe where we are allies with the Asgard and we help them fight the Replicators.”

Sigyn stepped towards Sam, his head cocked in the Asgard’s expression of interest. “Not from this universe. Well, well,” it mused, turning back towards the large Asgardian console and stepping up to it, moving the crystals across the surface.

Cautiously, Sam moved to stand beside Sigyn. They were turned to the wall, facing a blank screen. Trying to think of something to say, the screen interrupted her, coming to life with an image of a pale gray Asgard with a familiar expression.

“Thor?” Sam blurted.

“Sigyn?” The Asgard on the screen asked. “What have you done?”

“Sigyn did nothing,” The Asgard beside Sam answered, offended. “Sigyn saved General Jack O’Neill and now introduces you to Major Samantha Carter of the Tau’ri, but not of this universe.”

Asgard generally showed little emotion, but Sam got a distinct vibe of indignation from Sigyn.

“Supreme Commander Thor of the Asgard, I greet you on behalf of the free Tau’ri,” Sam addressed the Asgard on the screen. “Sigyn has helped my commander, but we need further assistance from the Asgard. We propose a mutual alliance, offering information on fighting the Replicators.”

“The Replicators?” Thor asked. “The Replicators have never been near the galaxy of the Tau’ri.”

“No. Not in this universe. But they have been in mine. I have information and tactics that will assist you in fighting them. And General O’Neill has — or maybe had —,” she added, glancing at Sigyn, “Access to the knowledge of the Ancients. Also, we have provided assistance in the attempt to research a solution to the genetic degradation of the Asgard Race.”

“Sigyn requires this information. The High Council will agree to whatever this Tau'ri wants.” The Asgard beside her was nearly vibrating with excitement. No wonder the others shunned Sigyn and left it behind.

“The High Council,” Thor enunciated each word slowly, “Will make their own decision when they have heard all the information in this matter.” Thor turned to Sam. “I apologise. Sigyn does not speak on behalf of the Asgard High Council. I, however, do. Please tell me what it is you propose.”

Sam glanced behind her, where the General still rested peacefully, and then turned back to the screen. “Thank you, Supreme Commander. Two weeks ago, on a planet we have designated PM5-173, I traversed universes using an unidentified device. In my home universe, seven years ago, we met the Asgard when ...”

Maybe the General would let her keep her Gate privileges after all.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You fit here. Don’t be afraid of it. It wouldn’t be the worst thing if you stayed.”
> 
> The words so exactly echoed the doubts, the thoughts, that she had been harbouring for days that Sam gulped, drawing down oxygen until her lungs were so full she began to panic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sliding it in under the Sunday wire, I know. 
> 
> Thank you thank you to the most worshipful and wonderful Sarah_M who pretty much co wrote this chapter. It is thanks to her that we got this update today. I owe her a batch of comma cookies.

Forty-eight hours later and they found themselves hurtling across the galaxy in an Al’kesh borrowed from the Free Jaffa.

“That went well,” Daniel remarked with false cheer, as the ship settled into hyperspace.

There was no agreement, only a telling silence from the others.

Ishta met Daniel’s eyes with her typically unreadable expression. “I need to kelno’reem and you should sleep, Daniel. Shall we each pick out a room for ourselves?”

“Good idea,” Daniel agreed brightly. “Something with an en-suite.”

Ishta and Daniel moved out of sight, faint traces of their conversation staying audible for a few more seconds as Daniel explained what an en-suite was.

In the first pilot’s chair Sam moved her hands over the controls, checking their course and environmental readings again, her jaw set tight. If only the General would also go and find himself a room, she could sit here and rage in peace. From the corner of her eye she kept a watch on him, stubbornly leaning against the bulkhead, his every muscle tense in a mirror of her anger.

Closing her eyes, Sam tried to gather her arguments. She was a more than capable hand to hand fighter, Teal’c had been training her in Jaffa combat for years. She had known who the imposter Goa’uld was, familiar with the kind of smooth, almost reasonable ideas that he presented to the Free Jaffa.

Sam chewed over her anger for a few minutes, biting down on it until she couldn’t hold back any longer. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Didn’t need to...” The General pushed off the wall, struggling to get the words out as he straightened. “He would have killed you!”

“I would have killed him first. I was the one who told you that K’tano wasn’t a Jaffa.”

The General took a step towards her, closing some of the distance between them. “And if you’d killed him in an honour duel, the other Jaffa would have executed you along with the rest of us before we could tell them what happened. K’tano knew that, which is why he manoeuvred you into it. Our alliance with the Free Jaffa is tentative at best - a fact that seems to be hard for you to grasp!” He moved nearer and nearer until she could see something other than anger in his eyes.

For the first time, Sam realised that she had scared the General as much as made him angry.

The impact of the revelation stopped her cold.

He was right, she’d been fighting to defend Teal’c and Bra’tac as much as the Tau’ri. Caught up in the moment, in the surety of knowing what she knew, Sam had forgotten where she was, who she was, and had risked all their lives - Daniel, Ishta, the General and herself. Even Teal’c and Bra’tac had been been put in jeopardy by her actions. What if they had had to choose between the four Tau’ri and the Free Jaffa?

Sam pressed her lips together until they paled, fixing her gaze on the sliding colours of hyperspace. Finally, she let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, Sir, you’re right. I do think of Teal’c and Bra’tac as my friends. I’m not sure I can help it… it’s easy to forget where I am, sometimes.”

“Hey,” he shuffled closer, his shoulders falling and his body visibly relaxing as he leaned against the console. “I get that. You’re a long way from home, a lot further than the rest of us. Just remember that it’s my responsibility to look after everybody on my team.”

Taking in his face half turned towards her the image of him unconscious, and possibly brain dead, came to her mind again. She had done that; nearly killed him.

No matter that Sigyn had removed the Ancient’s Repository, or that Thor had been able to give him just a fraction back - enough information to potentially save Earth. There had been one long, heart stopping moment when the General hadn’t regained consciousness when Sigyn said he would and … and that would have been her fault too.

“Maybe I’m just a liability to you all.” She couldn’t help the bitter edge that coloured her reply.

“Eh? C’mon Carter, you’ve more than earned the right to be a part of this.” When Sam kept silent, he spoke again. “You know we wouldn’t be here without you. What’s this really about?”

“I don’t belong here and I’m starting to think it’s going to get someone, maybe all of us, killed. Maybe you should stand me down.” Sam stood, ceding the pilot’s chair to General O’Neill.

“What?“ He snapped, incredulous. “I just went to a whole different galaxy because I trust your judgement. And then we came here to negotiate with the free Jaffa to borrow an Alkesh, to go to some superheated planet, to retrieve a device that I know absolutely nothing about.” The General threw his hands in the air, his voice growing louder.

“You’ve given me nothing _but_ reasons trust you, Carter! We all do. You’re the best hope we have.” Arms flung wide and shoulders tense with frustration, the General reminded her of Colonel O’Neill so acutely that it made her throat catch.

The General turned his gaze away, releasing an audible sigh.

“I could lead you into danger, get you killed, I almost have - twice in 48 hours. I’m supposed to help you to save Earth, not kill you while doing it,” Sam argued.

“That’s ridiculous, Carter! We’ve made more progress in the last four weeks than in the four months before them. I know we’re not your team, that I don’t get you like your Colonel O’Neill does, but you are _vital_ to what we’re doing here. And if we get to Earth and you can’t go back, well, there’s a lot of people in this universe who would be happy to keep you.”

As if realising he was yelling, the General stopped, closing his mouth. For a tense minute, they stared at each other, anger and fear and something crackling between them.

“I shouldn’t trust you?” He said so softly it was almost a whisper. “I don’t know where you came from but apparently I would fly across the universe if you asked me to. Actually have,” he added.

Sam was frozen, unable to move or speak or even twitch. Her chest hurt with the need to breathe, but she couldn’t take in air.

Slowly, so slowly, the General reached for her, hand sliding into her hair, drawing her close. Pressing his lips to hers, his fingers bunched against her scalp, a pull and scrape that brought her back to life. Inhaling, her lips parted and he tentatively deepened the kiss, filling her senses with heat, smothering her with his own air. The moment she brushed her tongue against his a shock ran between them, one that Sam felt all the way to her toes.

Uncountable moments passed and then his warmth was gone from her lips.

Sam struggled to re-establish an equilibrium, momentarily befuddled and very confused, caught between two realities.

“Jack.” Her voice was barely audible, even to her own ears.

His grip on her hair eased, becoming a caress as Jack moved to cup her neck, thumb rubbing over her pulse.

“You fit here. Don’t be afraid of it. It wouldn’t be the worst thing if you stayed.”

His words so exactly echoed the doubts, the thoughts, that she had been harbouring for days that Sam gulped, drawing down oxygen until her lungs were so full she began to panic.

The General suddenly straightened, reluctantly pulling his hand away, misreading her reaction. In a voice that she maybe wasn’t meant to hear, he murmured, “You have something with him, with your O’Neill.”

She wondered when he’d worked it out - somewhere between the breakfasts and the lunches, and trying to save him from the Ancient repository, and _right now_.

“No. We don’t ... I'm not ... but we,” Sam floundered and stumbled, her expression turning stricken, her thoughts tangling and tumbling over themselves until she wanted to scream for everything to just _stop_. Just for a minute.

“But you do have something. And you’re waiting for him.” General O’Neill swallowed, turned away and then back, hand tugging at his hair. “I’m sorry, Major. I …”

Sam had forgotten how silently, how quickly, he could move.

She watched him leave, desperately wanting to say something but she had no idea what. Frustrated, Sam fell back into the chair and braced her feet on the side of the console.

Five and a half hours until watch change. She had that long to work out what to say.

 

* * *

 

“We’ve never kissed and if it weren’t for an alien device we encountered, we would never have even spoken of it.” Sam leant against the crate in the cargo hold where she had found General O’Neill dividing up the two weeks of rations they had packed for the mission.

The truth, or the lack of it, between her and Colonel O’Neill was already the problem in one universe. After five and a half hours of turning the circumstances over and over in her head she had decided to make a different choice in this one.

“I’m honestly not even sure if there is anything that could become something now. Years have passed since we spoke about it.” This was both the strangest and most cathartic conversation she’d ever had about Jack O’Neill, and she was having it with his double.

“But you still feel something?” He asked without looking up.

Sam shrugged. “Yes, but…” How could she explain seven years of missed moments, dashed hopes? Seven years of being so good at pretending like nothing was there that you were beginning to believe it?

The General counted quietly to himself and divided off another pile of MREs and a cask of water. Then he spoke again, “I read in Daniel’s report that all the Carters and O’Neills that you have met have had some kind of ‘connection’.” His fingers waggled in air quotes just like she expected, making her grin.

“Yes.”

“And I take it that was your way of not saying, on the record, that they all hooked up?”

The truth, she reminded herself, was what she had come here to share. And that meant looking General O’Neill in the eye even when she’d rather be hiding in a crate than sitting on one. “That seemed unwise to say in light of my situation at the time, Sir, yes.”

He cocked his head. “Given the nature of this conversation, maybe we should drop the Sirs.”

“Ok,” Sam avoided specifically agreeing. Jack continued to stare at her until she rolled her eyes and said, “Yes, Jack.”

Clearly amused he returned to sorting. “Well, then, I would bet you a Quantum Mirror that he still feels something, too.”

Sam shook her head.

Was it possible they could withstand waiting seven years? Could make it through more - eight, nine, ten?

Jack leaned back against a crate and considered her. “Look, after being around you for four weeks I stuck my head in a crazy alien device and risked losing my mind - literally - and foregoing my only mission objective all so that I wouldn’t have to watch you do it. And if that’s how I feel about you after four weeks, Samantha Carter, then the other me must be going completely out of his fucking mind wondering where the hell you are right now.”

Sam swallowed, her throat so tight that it was painful. _So much for speaking the truth. The truth fucking hurt._

“Shit,” she said aloud. And then swore again as her knees began to buckle and she had to choose to slide down to the floor or meet it in a harder, more intimate way. Why couldn’t her body just work like it was supposed to? Maybe traversing universes had more side effects than just entropic cascade failure. Effects they had never observed because no one they knew had stayed this long in an alternate reality.

A hand was pressing her head between her knees, a voice coaxing. “Breathe, Sam. Breathe.”

The scientist part of her brain began listing all the symptoms of fainting. Dizziness, cold sweat, blurred vision, nausea, tingling lips. Yup, Doctor Sam. Good diagnosis.

Cool air met her skin as her hair was brushed back and the voice spoke again. “Deep breath, slow. There you go. And again.”

One hand stroked her spine, the other held her hair back. As her senses returned to a more normal cant, the knowledge that Jack was the only one seeing her like this was something of a comfort.

His touch eased when she shifted to rest her forehead on her knees. He took his hands away and there was rustling and then he tapped something against her leg. When she turned her head sideways to look, Jack was holding out a power bar.

“Have you eaten since we came aboard?”

Feeling like an idiot, Sam shook her head and reached for the power bar. Once she had taken a bite, Jack was prodding her knee with a water bottle. She took it with good grace, unscrewing the cap and taking a long gulp.

When Sam bit into the power bar again, Jack finally relaxed. Leaning back against the crate, he drew his knees up and unwrapped a second power bar for himself.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said.

Sam sipped at the water, clearing her mouth. “What for?”

Jack chewed slowly. “I forget who you are, too. Where you’ve come from. What you must be missing.”

“It’s not all that different here,” she mused. “Maybe that’s why it’s so hard. Today, with Teal’c and Bra’tac, you and Daniel…”

“I can’t believe it’s that similar.”

Sam shrugged. “It isn’t until it is. And when it is, some kind of autopilot kicks in and then I’m me again and you’re… ” she pulled up just a little too late.

“Seven years? And nothing?” He asked, eyes meeting hers.

“Nope,” Sam confirmed.

“Other me is such a tightass,” Jack observed, droll.

With a snort, Sam said, “Some would say he’s a gentleman. I take it that you don’t agree?”

Jack leant his head back against the crate with a sigh. “No, he’s right. If you were my subordinate… “ Raising his bottle in a toast, he said, “To Colonel Jack O’Neill, one stubborn son-of-a-bitch.”

Sam laughed and bumped her bottle to his and they drank in unison. She ate the last bite of her power bar and straightened the wrapper before folding it and tucking it in the calf pocket of her BDUs. “But I’m not _your_ subordinate,” she finally said, taking the idea out to look at it.

“No, you’re not,” Jack agreed.

He waited out her thoughts with a patient presence that was both familiar and comforting.

“The last few days I’ve been wondering, what if we don’t find the Quantum Mirror at Groom Lake? Or what if we find it, but I can’t tune it to my original reality?”

Her hand shook a little and Jack reached to take it, holding it between them.

“There’s a place for you here. At the SGC I mean, or somewhere else. Save Earth and you can probably go wherever you want.” Jack looked down at her hand held in his. “I don’t want you to think, because of what happened earlier, that I wouldn’t help you to go home or try to keep you … tied to the Air Force.”

“I know,” Sam agreed. “That’s not you. Is it wrong to wonder what it would be like to stay?”

Jack shuffled uncomfortably. “I’m the wrong person to be asking.”

“Why is that? It’s not like you’re less qualified than anyone else. If you were in the same position, had left one reality behind and found another _nearly_ acceptable one,” she shot him a grin, “Would you consider the option?”

“If everything were the same, except that I was in your place?” Jack turned to her, that same spark as before lighting up between them. “I think you can guess… “

“But?” Sam asked, sensing there was something else.

“You don’t have all the information yet. And even when you do, I can’t make the decision for you, Sam.”

The decision had always been hers. The years of looks and touches and almosts, each one of them a question, each one answered with, ‘ _Not yet. Our time will come’._

Jack broke into her thoughts. “Do you want to know what I think, as a CO?”

Sam’s hand tensed and he calmed her with a brush of his thumb over her skin. “Okay,” she wearily granted permission.

“You’re … uncomfortable with the two different realities. You don’t know what could happen if you went back or if you stayed. Your science-y brain doesn’t like that.” Jack nudged her shoulder with his to soften the observation. “So don’t look so far ahead.”

“Just stick with the pressing problems?” She mused.

Jack nodded. “And no matter what, food and sleep will make the problems easier to deal with.” Releasing her hand, he stood up, holding a hand out to her. Sam took it and he pulled her to her feet and into a long embrace.

When he tucked his face into her neck, Sam was overwhelmed by the realisation that it had been long, too long, since she had shared this with the Colonel. She missed it, desperately missed him.

The General held her until she broke away and, for the first time, she understood how Colonel O’Neill could have accepted that kiss from Dr Carter. It had been a question, _Are you the same one that I have feelings for?_ And Sam knew the answer.

Dr Carter hadn’t been and General O’Neill wasn’t either. There was potential, yes, but it would be with a different person, with different expectations and different consequences.

The General stuck his hands in his pockets. “Do I need to order you to sleep?”

“No,” Sam smiled and ducked her head. “I’ll do the sensible thing.” Because the sensible thing was what Major Samantha Carter always did.

“Sweet dreams then, Carter.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she said and headed for the room she’d tossed her tac vest and kit into earlier.

She was lying in her sleeping bag, mulling the tumultuous day over, when a new thought occurred to her. Stay or go weren’t the only options she had. There was at least one more.


End file.
